THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

Bon  Adams  and  Don  Adams 

PRESENTED  BY 

Mrs*  Bon  Adams  and 
Mrs.  Ray  B.  McCarty 


<£>0 


! 


Too  late  he  feels,  by  look,  and  deed,  and  word. 
How  often  he  has  crucified  his  Lord. 

The  Wanuerlng  Jew,  Vol.  1. 


THE 


Wandering  Jew 


CONTAINING    THE    DORE    ILLUSTRATIONS 


Jn  -fioe  ttolwnes— bolume 


PETEK  FENELON  COLLIER,  PUBLISHER 
NEW  YORK 


J8G 

v.l 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

VOLUME  ONE. 

Since  thou  art  pitiless,  thy  weary  way 

Thou'rt  doom'd  to  wander  till  the  Judgment  Day. 

Spellbound  they  gather,  far  and  near  to  scan 
The  weird  senescence  of  that  wondrous  man. 

Too  late  he  feels,  by  look,  and  deed,  and  word, 
How  often  he  has  crucified  his  Lord. 

In  vain  they  offer  wine,  with  drunken  jest; 
He  may  not  enter  for  a  moment's  rest. 

On  through  morass  and  slough  he  strives  to  fly 
From  hateful  memories  of  days  gone  by. 

The  end  releases  other  men  from  strife; 
His  fate  is  ceaseless  toil  and  deathless  life. 


THE 

WANDERING 
JEW. 


PART   FIRST. 
THE     TRANSGRESSION. 


PROLOGUE. 
THE  LAND'S  END  OF  TWO  WORLDS. 

THE  Arctic  Ocean  encircles  with  a  belt 
of  eternal  ice  the  desert  confines  of  Siberia 
and  North  America — the  uttermost  limits 
of  the  Old  and  New  worlds,  separated  by 
the  narrow  channel  known  as  Behring's 
Straits. 

The  last  days  of  September  have  ar- 
rived. 

The  equinox  has  brought  with  it  dark- 

(3) 


4  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

ness  and  Northern  storms,  and  night  will 
quickly  close  the  short  and  dismal  polar 
day.  The  sky  of  a  dull  and  leaden  blue 
is  faintly  lighted  by  a  sun  without  warmth, 
whose  white  disk,  scarcely  seen  above  the 
horizon,  pales  before  the  dazzling-  bril- 
liancy of  the  snow  that  covers,  as  far 
as  the  eyes  can  reach,  the  boundless 
steppes. 

To  the  North,  this  desert  is  bounded  by 
a  ragged  coast,  bristling  with  huge  black 
rocks. 

At  the  base  of  this  Titanic  mass  lies 
enchained  the  petrified  ocean,  whose  spell- 
bound waves  appear  fixed  as  vast  ranges 
of  ice  mountains,  their  blue  peaks  fading 
away  in  the  far-off  frost  smoke,  or  snow 
vapor. 

Between  the  twin-peaks  of  Cape  East, 
the  termination  of  Siberia,  the  sullen  sea 
is  seen  to  drive  tall  icebergs  across  a 
streak  of  dead  green.  There  lie  Behring's 
Straits. 

Opposite,  and  towering  over  the  chan- 
nel, rise  the  granite  masses  of  Cape 
Prince  of  Wales,  the  headland  of  North 
America. 

These  lonely  latitudes  do  not  belong  to 
the  habitable  world  ;  for  the  piercing  cold 
shivers  the  stones,  splits  the  trees,  and 


THB  WANDERING  JEW.  5 

causes  the  earth  to  burst  asunder,  which, 
throwing  forth  showers  of  icy  spangles, 
seems  capable  of  enduring1  this  solitude 
of  frost  and  tempest,  of  famine  and 
death. 

And  yet,  strange  to  say,  footprints  may 
be  traced  on  the  snow,  covering  these 
headlands  on  either  side  of  Behring's 
Straits. 

On  the  American  shore  the  footprints 
are  small  and  light,  thus  betraying  the 
passage  of  a  woman. 

She  has  been  hastening  up  the  rocky 
peak,  whence  the  drifts  of  Siberia  are 
visible. 

On  the  latter  ground,  footprints  larger 
and  deeper  betoken  the  passing  of  a  man. 
He  also  was  on  his  way  to  the  Straits. 

It  would  seem  that  this  man  and  wo- 
man had  arrived  here  from  opposite 
directions,  in  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse 
of  one  another  across  the  arm  of  the  sea 
dividing  the  two  worlds — the  Old  and 
the  New. 

More  strange  still !  the  man  and  the 
woman  have  crossed  the  solitudes  during 
a  terrific  storm  !  Black  pines,  the  growth 
of  centuries,  pointing  their  bent  heads  in 
different  parts  of  the  solitude  like  crosses 
in  a  churchyard,  have  been  uprooted, 
rent,  and  hurled  aside  by  the  blasts 


0  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Yet  the  two  travelers  face  this  furious 
tempest,  which  has  plucked  up  trees,  and 
pounded  the  frozen  masses  into  splinters, 
with  the  roar  of  thunder. 

They  face  it,  without  for  one  single 
instant  deviating  from  the  straight  line 
hitherto  followed  by  them. 

Who,  then,  are  these  two  beings  who 
advance  thus  calmly  amid  the  storms 
and  convulsions  of  nature? 

Is  it  by  chance,  or  design,  or  destiny, 
that  the  seven  nails  in  the  sole  of  the 
man's  shoe  form  a  cross — thus : 

* 

*   *  * 
* 
* 

Everywhere  he  leaves  this  impress  be- 
hind him. 

On  the  smooth  and  polished  snow  these 
footmarks  seem  imprinted  by  a  foot  of 
brass  on  a  marble  floor. 

Night  without  twilight  has  soon  suc- 
ceeded day — a  night  of  foreboding  gloom. 

The  brilliant  reflection  of  the  snow  ren- 
ders the  white  steppes  still  visible  beneath 
the  azure  darkness  of  the  sky ;  and  the 
pale  stars  glimmer  on  the  obscure  and 
frozen  dome. 

Solemn  silence  reigns. 


THE  WANDEK1NQ  JEW.  7 

But,  toward  the  Straits,  a  faint  light 
appears. 

At  first,  a  gentle,  bluish  light,  such  as 
precedes  moonrise  ;  it  increases  in  bright- 
ness, and  assumes  a  ruddy  hue. 

Darkness  thickens  in  every  other  direc- 
tion ;  the  white  wilds  of  the  desert  are 
now  scarcely  visible  under  the  black  vault 
of  the  firmament. 

Strange  and  confused  noises  are  heard 
amid  this  obscurity. 

They  sound  like  the  flight  of  large 
night-birds — now  flapping — now  heavily 
skimming  over  the  steppes — now  de- 
scending. 

But  no  cry  is  heard. 

This  silent  terror  heralds  the  approach 
of  one  of  those  imposing  phenomena  that 
awe  alike  the  most  ferocious  and  the  most 
harmless  of  animated  beings.  An  Aurora 
Borealis  (magnificent  sight  !),  common  in 
the  polar  regions,  suddenly  beams  forth. 

A  half  circle  of  dazzling  whiteness  be- 
comes visible  in  the  horizon.  Immense 
columns  of  light  stream  forth  from  this 
dazzling  center,  rising  to  a  great  height, 
illuminating  earth,  sea,  and  sky.  Then 
a  brilliant  reflection,  like  the  blaze  of  a 
conflagration,  steals  over  the  snow  of  the 
desert,  purples  the  summits  of  the  moun- 
tains of  ice,  and  imparts  a  dark  red  hue 
to  the  black  rocks  of  both  continents. 


8  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

After  attaining  this  magnificent  bril- 
liancy, the  Northern  Lights  faded  away 
gradually,  and  their  vivid  glow  was  lost 
in  a  luminous  fog. 

Just  then,  by  a  wondrous  mirage,  an 
effect  very  common  in  high  latitudes,  the 
American  Coast,  though  separated  from 
Siberia  by  a  broad  arm  of  the  sea,  loomed 
so  close  that  a  bridge  might  seemingty  be 
thrown  from  one  world  to  the  other. 

Then  human  forms  appeared  in  the 
transparent  azure  haze  overspreading  both 
forelands. 

On  the  Siberian  Cape,  a  man,  on  his 
knees,  stretched  his  arms  toward  Amer- 
ica, with  an  expression  of  inconceivable 
despair. 

On  the  American  promontory,  a  young" 
and  handsome  woman  replied  to  the 
man's  despairing  gesture  by  pointing  to 
heaven. 

For  some  seconds,  these  two  tall  figures 
stood  out,  pale  and  shadowy,  in  the  fare- 
well gleams  of  the  Aurora. 

But  the  fog  thickens,  and  all  is  lost  in 
darkness. 

Whence  came  the  two  beings  who  met 
thus  amid  polar  glaciers,  at  the  extremi- 
ties of  the  old  and  new  worlds  ? 

Who  were  the  two  creatures,  brought 
near  for  a  moment  by  a  deceitful  mirage, 
but  who  seemed  eternally  separated  ? 


THE  WANDERING  JfiW. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MOROK. 

THE  month  of  October,  1831,  draws  to 
its  close. 

Though  it  is  still  day,  a  brass  lamp, 
with  four  burners,  illumines  the  cracked 
walls  of  a  large  loft,  whose  solitary 
window  is  closed  against  outer  light.  A 
ladder,  with  its  top  rungs  coming  up 
through  an  open  trap,  leads  to  it. 

Here  and  there  at  random  on  the  floor 
lie  iron  chains,  spiked  collars,  saw-toothed 
snaffles,  muzzles  bristling  with  nails,  and 
long  iron  rods  set  in  wooden  handles.  In 
one  corner  stands  a  portable  furnace,  such 
as  tinkers  use  to  melt  their  spelter ;  char- 
coal and  dry  chips  fill  it,  so  that  a  spark 
would  suffice  to  kindle  this  furnace  in  a 
minute. 

Not  far  from  this  collection  of  ugly 
instruments,  putting  one  in  mind  of  a 
torturer's  kit  of  tools,  there  are  some 
articles  of  defense  and  otfense  of  a  bygone 
age.  A  coat  of  mail,  with  links  so  flex- 
ible, close,  and  light,  that  it  resembled 
steel  tissue,  hangs  from  a  box,  beside 


10  THB  WANDERING  JBW. 

iron  cuishes  and  arm-pieces,  in  good  con- 
dition, even  to  being  properly  fitted  with 
straps.  A  mace,  and  two  long  three- 
corner-headed  pikes,  with  ash  handles, 
strong,  and  light  at  the  same  time, 
spotted  with  lately-shed  blood,  complete 
the  armory,  modernized  somewhat  by  the 
presence  of  two  Tyrolese  rifles,  loaded  and 
primed. 

Along  with  this  arsenal  of  murderous 
weapons  and  out-of-date  instruments  is 
strangely  mingled  a  collection  of  very 
different  objects,  being  small  glass-lidded 
boxes,  full  of  rosaries,  chaplets,  medals, 
AGNUS  DEI,  holy-water  bottles,  framed 
pictures  of  saints,  etc.,  not  to  forget  a 
goodly  number  of  those  chap-books,  struck 
off  in  Friburg  on  coarse  bluish  paper,  in 
which  you  can  hear  about  miracles  of  our 
own  time,  or  "  Jesus  Christ's  Letter  to  a 
true  believer,"  containing  awful  predic- 
tions, as  for  the  years  1831  and  '32,  about 
impious  revolutionary  France. 

One  of  those  canvas  daubs,  with  which 
strolling  showmen  adorn  their  booths, 
hangs  from  a  rafter,  no  doubt  to  prevent 
its  being  spoiled  by  too  long  rolling  up. 
It  bore  the  following  legend  : 

"THE  DOWNRIGHT  TRUE  AND  MOST 
MEMORABLE  CONVERSION  OF  IGNATIUS 
MOROK,  KNOWN  AS  THE'  PROPHET,  HAP- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  U 

PENING   IN    FRIBURG,   1828TH    YEAR    OF 

GRACE." 

This  picture,  of  a  size  larger  than 
natural,  of  gaudy  color,  and  in  bad  taste, 
is  divided  into  three  parts,  each  presenting 
an  important  phase  in  the  life  of  the 
convert,  surnamed  "  The  Prophet.."  In 
the  first,  behold  a  long-bearded  man,  the 
hair  almost  white,  with  uncouth  face,  and 
clad  in  reindeer  skin,  like  the  Siberian 
savage.  His  black  foreskin  cap  is  topped 
with  a  raven's  head ;  his  features  express 
terror.  Bent  forward  in  his  sledge,  which 
half-a-dozen  huge  tawny  dogs  draw  over 
the  snow,  he  is  fleeing  from  the  pursuit 
of  a  pack  of  foxes,  wolves,  and  big  bears, 
whose  gaping  jaws  and  formidable  teeth 
seem  quite  capable  of  devouring  man, 
sledge,  and  dogs,  a  hundred  times  over. 
Beneath  this  section,  read  : 

"  IN  1810,  MOROK,  THE  IDOLATER,  FLED 
FROM  WILD  BEASTS." 

In  the  second  picture,  Morok,  decently 
clad  in  a  catechumen's  white  gown,  kneels, 
with  clasped  hands,  to  a  man  who  wears 
a  white  neckcloth  and  flowing  black  robe. 
In  a  corner,  a  tall  angel,  of  repulsive 
aspect,  holds  a  trumpet  in  one  hand,  and 
flourishes  a  flaming  sword  with  the  other, 
while  the  words  which  follow  flow  out 


18  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

of  his  mouth,  in  red  letters  on  a  black 
ground  : 

"MOROK,  THE  IDOLATER,  FLED  FROM 
WILD  BEASTS  ;  BUT  WILD  BEASTS  WILL 
FLEE  FROM  IGNATIUS  MOROK,  CONVERTED 
AND  BAPTIZED  IN  FRIBURG." 

Thus,  in  the  last  compartment,  the  new 
convert  proudly,  boastfulty,  and  triumph- 
antly parades  himself  in  a  flowing-  robe 
of  blue  ;  head  up,  left  arm  akimbo,  rig-ht 
hand  outstretched,  he  seems  to  scare  the 
wits  out  of  a  multitude  of  lions,  tigers, 
hyenas,  and  bears,  who,  with  sheathed 
claws  and  masked  teeth,  crouch  at  his  feet, 
awe-stricken  and  submissive. 

Under  this  is  the  concluding-  moral : 

"IGNATIUS  MOROK  BEING  CONVERTED, 
WILD  BEASTS  CROUCH  BEFORE  HIM." 

Not  far  from  this  canvas  are  several 
parcels  of  halfpenny  books,  likewise  from 
the  Friburg  press,  which  relate  by  what 
astounding  miracle  Morok,  the  Idolater, 
acquired  a  supernatural  power  almost 
divine,  the  moment  he  was  converted — a 
power  which  the  wildest  animal  could  not 
resist,  and  which  was  testified  to  every 
day  by  the  lion-tamer's  performances, 
"given  less  to  display  his  courage  than 
to  show  his  praise  unto  the  Lord." 

Through  the  trap-door  which  opens  into 
the  loft  reek  up  puffs  of  a  rank,  sour, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  18 

penetrating-  odor.  From  time  to  time  are 
heard  sonorous  growls  and  deep  breath- 
ing's, followed  by  a  dull  sound,  as  of  great 
bodies  stretching-  themselves  heavily  along 
the  floor. 

A  man  is  alone  in  this  loft.  It  is  Morok, 
the  tamer  of  wild  beasts,  surnamed  the 
Prophet. 

He  is  forty  years  old,  of  middle  height, 
with  lank  limbs,  and  an  exceedingly  spare 
frame  ;  he  is  wrapped  in  a  long,  blood-red 
pelisse,  lined  with  black  fur;  his  com- 
plexion, fair  by  nature,  is  bronzed  by  the 
wandering  life  he  has  led  from  childhood  ; 
his  hair,  of  that  dead  yellow  peculiar  to 
certain  races  of  the  polar  countries,  falls 
straight  and  stiff  down  his  shoulders ;  and 
his  thin,  sharp,  hooked  nose,  and  promi- 
nent cheek-bones,  surmount  a  long  beard, 
bleached  almost  to  whiteness.  Peculiarly 
marking  the  physiognomy  of  this  man  is 
the  wide  open  eye,  with  its  tawny  pupil 
ever  encircled  by  a  rim  of  white.  This 
fixed,  extraordinary  look,  exercises  a  real 
fascination  over  animals  —  which,  how- 
ever, does  not  prevent  the  Prophet  from 
also  employing,  to  tame  them,  the  terrible 
arsenal  around  him. 

Seated  at  a  table,  he  has  just  opened 
the  false  bottom  of  a  box,  filled  with 
chaplets  and  other  toys,  for  the  use  of  the 


14  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

devout.  Beneath  this  false  bottom,  se- 
cured by  a  secret  lock,  are  several  sealed 
envelopes,  with  no  other  address  than  a 
number,  combined  with  a  letter  of  the 
alphabet.  The  Prophet  takes  one  of  these 
packets,  conceals  it  in  the  pocket  of  his 
pelisse,  and,  closing-  the  secret  fastening 
of  the  false  bottom,  replaces  the  box  upon 
a  shelf. 

This  scene  occurs  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  in  the  White  Falcon,  the 
only  hostelry  in  the  little  village  of  Mock- 
ern,  situated  near  Leipsic,  as  you  come 
from  the  north  toward  France. 

After  a  few  moments  the  loft  is  shaken 
by  a  hoarse  roaring  from  below. 

"Judas!  be  quiet!"  exclaims  the 
Prophet,  in  a  menacing  tone,  as  he  turns 
his  head  toward  the  trap-door.  Another 
deep  growl  is  heard,  formidable  as  distant 
thunder. 

"  Lie  down,  Cain  !  "  cries  Morok,  start- 
ing from  his  seat. 

A  third  roar,  of  inexpressible  ferocity, 
bursts  suddenly  on  the  ear. 

"Death!  will  you  have  done?"  cries 
the  Prophet,  rushing  toward  the  trap- 
door, and  addressing  a  third  invisible 
animal,  which  bears  this  ghastly  name. 

Notwithstanding  the  habitual  authority 
of  his  voice — notwithstanding  his  reiter- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  J5 

ated  threats — the  brute-tamer  cannot  ob-, 
tain  silence  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  barking 
of  several  dog's  is  soon  added  to  the  roar- 
ing of  the  wild  beasts.  Morok  seizes  a 
pike,  and  approaches  the  ladder;  he  is 
about  to  descend,  when  he  sees  some  one 
issuing  from  the  aperture. 

The  new  comer  has  a  brown,  sun-burnt 
face ;  he  wears  a  gray  hat,  bell-crowned 
and  broad-brimmed,  with  a  short  jacket, 
and  wide  trousers  of  green  cloth;  his 
dusty  leathern  gaiters  show  that  he  has 
walked  some  distance ;  a  game-bag  is 
fastened  by  straps  to  his  back. 

"The  devil  take  the  brutes  !  "  cried  he, 
as  he  set  foot  on  the  floor;  "one  would 
think  they'd  forgotten  me  in  three  days. 
Judas  thrust  his  paw  through  the  bars 
of  his  cage,  and  Death  danced  like  a 
fury.  They  don't  know  me  any  more,  it 
seems !  " 

This  was  said  in  German.  Morok  an- 
swered in  the  same  language,  but  with  a 
slightly  foreign  accent. 

"  Good  or  bad  news,  Karl  ?  "  he  in- 
quired, with  some  uneasiness. 

"  Good  news." 

"  You've  met  them  !  " 

"  Yesterday ;  two  leagues  from  Wit- 
tenberg." 

"Heaven   be  praised!"    cried   Morok, 


16  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

clasping  his  hands  with  intense  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  'tis  the  direct  road 
from  Russia  to  France  ;  'twas  a  thousand 
to  one  that  we  should  find  them  some- 
where between  Wittenberg-  and  Leipsic." 

"  And  the  description  ?  " 

' '  Ver3r  close  :  two  young  girls  in  mourn- 
ing ;  horse,  white  ;  the  old  man  has  long 
mustache,  blue  forage-cap,  gray  top-coat, 
and  a  Siberian  dog  at  his  heels." 

"  And  where  did  you  leave  them  ?  " 

"  A  league  hence.  They  will  be  here 
within  the  hour." 

"And  in  this  inn— since  it  is  the  only 
one  in  the  village,"  said  Morok,  with  a 
pensive  air. 

"  And  night  drawing  on,"  added  Karl. 

"  Did  you  get  the  old  man  to  talk  ?  " 

"  Him  ! — you  don't  suppose  it  I  " 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"Go,  and  try  yourself." 

"  And  for  what  reason  ?  " 

"Impossible." 

"  Impossible — why  ?  " 

"  You  shall  know  all  about  it.  Yester- 
day, as  if  I  had  fallen  in  with  them  by 
chance,  I  followed  them  to  the  place 
where  they  stopped  for  the  night.  I  spoke 
in  German  to  the  tall  old  man,  accosting 
him,  as  is  usual  with  wayfarers,  '  Good 


THE   WANDERING  3EW.  17 

day,  and  a  pleasant  journey,  comrade!' 
But,  for  an  answer,  he  looked  askant  at 
me,  and  pointed  with  the  end  of  his  stick 
to  the  other  side  of  the  road." 

"  He  is  a  Frenchman,  and,  perhaps, 
does  not  understand  German." 

"  He  speaks  it,  at  least,  as  well  as  you  ; 
for  at  the-  inn  I  heard  him  ask  the  host 
for  whatever  he  and  the  young  girls 
wanted." 

"  And  did  you  not  again  attempt  to  en- 
gage him  in  conversation  ?  " 

"  Once  only ;  but  I  met  with  such  a 
rough  reception,  that,  for  fear  of  making- 
mischief,  I  did  not  try  again.  Besides, 
between  ourselves,  I  can  tell  you  this  man 
has  a  devilish  ugly  look ;  believe  me,  in 
spite  of  his  gray  mustache,  he  looks  so 
vigorous  and  resolute,  though  with  no 
more  flesh  on  him  than  a  carcass,  that 
I  don't  know  whether  he  or  my  mate, 
Giant  Goliath,  would  have  the  best  of  it 
in  a  struggle.  I  know  not  your  plans; 
only  take  care,  master — take  care  !  " 

"  My  black  panther  of  Java  was  also 
very  vigorous  and  very  vicious,"  said 
Morok,  with  a  grim,  disdainful  smile. 

"  What,  Death  ?  Yes,  in  truth  ;  and 
she  is  vigorous  and  vicious  as  ever.  Only 
to  you  she  is  almost  mild." 

"  And  thus  I  will  break  in  this  tall  old 


18  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

man,  notwithstanding'  his  strength  and 
surliness." 

"  Humph  !  humph  !  be  on  your  guard, 
master.  You  are  clever :  you  are  as 
brave  as  any  one ;  but,  believe  me,  you 
will  never  make  a  lamb  out  of  the  old 
wolf  that  will  be  here  presently." 

"Does  not  my  lion,  Cain — does  not  my 
tiger,  Judas,  crouch  in  terror  before  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you  there — but  because 
you  have  means — " 

"  Because  I  have  faith :  that  is  all — and 
it  is  all,"  said  Morok,  imperiously  inter- 
rupting Karl,  and  accompanying  these 
words  with  such  a  look  that  the  other 
hung  his  head  and  was  silent. 

"Why  should  not  he  whom  the  Lord 
upholds  in  his  struggle  with  wild  beasts 
be  also  upheld  in  his  struggle  with  men, 
when  those  men  are  perverse  and  im- 
pious ?  "  added  the  Prophet,  with  a  tri- 
umphant, inspired  air. 

Whether  from  belief  in  his  master's 
conviction,  or  from  inability  to  engage 
in  a  controversy  with  him  on  so  delicate 
a  subject,  Karl  answered  the  Prophet, 
humbly  :  "  You  are  wiser  than  I  am, 
master  ;  what  you  do  must  be  well  done." 

"  Did  you  follow  this  old  man  and  these 
two  young  girls  all  day  long  ?  "  resumed 
the  Prophet,  after  a  moment's  silence. 


THE  WANDERLUTG  JEW.  jg 

"  Tes  ;  but  at  a  distance.  As  I  know 
the  country  well,  I  sometimes  cut  across 
a  valley,  sometimes  over  a  hill,  keeping 
my  eye  upon  the  road,  where  they  were 
always  to  be  seen.  The  last  time  I  saw 
them,  I  was  hid  behind  the  water-mill 
by  the  potteries.  As  they  were  on  the 
highway  for  this  place,  and  night  was 
drawing-  on,  I  quickened  my  pace  to  get 
here  before  them,  and  be  the  bearer  of 
what  you  call  good  news." 

"  Very  good— yes— very  good  :  and  you 
shall  be  rewarded  ;  for  if  these  people 
had  escaped  me — " 

The  Prophet  started,  and  did  not  con- 
clude the  sentence.  The  expression  of 
his  face,  and  the  tones  of  his  voice,  indi- 
cated the  importance  of  the  intelligence 
which  had  just  been  brought  him. 

"  In  truth,"  rejoined  Karl,  "it  may  be 
worth  attending  to;  for  that  Russian 
courier,  all  plastered  with  lace,  who 
came,  without  slacking  bridle,  from  St. 
Petersburg  to  Leipsic,  only  to  see  you, 
rode  so  fast,  perhaps,  for  the  purpose — " 

Morok  abruptly  interrupted  Karl,  and 
said  : 

"  Who  told  you  that  the  arrival  of  the 
courier  had  anything  to  do  with  these 
travelers  ?  You  are  mistaken  j  you 


gO  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

should  only  know  what  I  choose  to  tell 
you." 

"Well,  master,  forgive  me,  and  let's 
say  no  more  about  it.  So  !  I  will  get 
rid  of  my  game-bag,  and  so  help  Goliath 
to  feed  the  brutes,  for  their  supper  time 
draws  near,  if  it  is  not  already  past. 
Does  our  big  giant  grow  lazy,  master  ?  " 

"  Goliath  is  gone  out;  he  must  not 
know  that  you  are  returned  ;  above  all, 
the  tall  old  man  and  the  maidens  must 
not  see  you  here — it  will  make  them  sus- 
pect something." 

"  Where  do  you  wish  me  to  go,  then  ?  " 

"  Into  the  loft,  at  the  end  of  the  stable, 
and  wait  my  orders ;  you  may  this  night 
have  to  set  out  for  Leipsic." 

"  As  you  please ;  I  have  some  pro- 
visions left  in  my  pouch,  and  can  sup  in 
the  loft  while  I  rest  myself." 

"  Go." 

"Master,  remember  what  I  told  you. 
Beware  of  that  old  fellow  with  the  gray 
mustache ;  I  think  he's  devilish  tough ; 
I'm  up  to  these  things — he's  an  ugly 
customer — be  on  your  guard  !  "• 

"  Be  quite  easy  !  I  am  always  on  my 
guard,"  said  Morok. 

"Then  good  luck  to  you,  master!" — 
and  Karl,  having  reached  the  ladder, 
suddenly  disappeared. 


THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

28 

After  making1  a  friendly  farew 
ure  to  his  servant,  the  Prophet 
and  down  for  some  time,  with  a 
deep  meditation ;   then,  approac11  an 
box  which  contained  the  paper**  an(* 
out  a  pretty  long1  letter,  and  re 
and  over  with  profound  attentk  a 
time  to  time,  he  rose   and   wet-* 
closed   window,   which    looked 
inner  court  of  the  inn,  and  appt 
listen  anxiously ;  for  he  waited  wiVes 
patience  the  arrival  of  the  three  pek,_ 
whose  approach  had  just  been  announce,. 
to  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE     TRAVELERS. 

WHILE  the  above  scene  was  passing 
in  the  White  Falcon  at  Mockern,  the 
three  persons  whose  arrival  Morok  was 
so  anxiously  expecting-  traveled  on  lei- 
surely in  the  midst  of  smiling-  meadows, 
bounded  on  one  side  by  a  river,  the  cur- 
rent of  which  turned  a  mill ;  and  on  -the 
other  by  the  highway  leading-  to  the  vil- 
lage, which  was  situated  on  an  eminence, 
at  about  a  league's  distance. 


20 


THE   WANDERING  JEW. 


should  *y  was   beautifully  serene  ;  the 
you."     °f  tne  river,  beaten  by  the  mill- 
«\yejid    sparkling1  with  foam,   alone 
say  no  in  the  silence  of  an  evening  pro- 
rid  of  my  }m-      Thick    willows,   bending 
to  feed  th'iver>    covered    it    with    their 
draws    nesparent    shadow  ;    while,    fur- 
Does  our*8  stream  reflected  so  splendidly 
«  Qoli'ieavens  and  the  glowing  tints 
know  tist>  that,  but  for  the  hills  which 
the  t/'ween  it  and  the  sky,  the  gold  and 
no*     of  the  water  would  have  mingled 
-•'  lie  dazzling  sheet  with  the  gold  and 
./ure  of  the  firmament.     The  tall  reeds 
on  the  bank  bent  their  black  velvet  heads 
beneath  the  light  breath    of   the  breeze 
that  rises  at  the  close  of  day — for  the  sun 
was   gradually    sinking  behind    a  broad 
streak  of  purple  clouds,  fringed  with  fire. 
The  tinkling  bells   of    a    flock  of  sheep 
sounded  from  afar  in  the  clear  and  sonor- 
ous air. 

Along  a  path  trodden  in  the  grass  of 
the  meadow,  two  girls,  almost  children — 
for  they  had  but  just  completed  their 
fifteenth  year — were  riding  on  a  white 
horse  of  medium  size,  seated  upon  a  large 
saddle  with  a  back  to  it,  which  easily 
took  them  both  in,  for  their  figures  were 
slight  and  delicate. 
A  man  of  tall  stature,  with  a  sun-burnt 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  gg 

face  and  long-  gray  mustache,  was  leading- 
the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  ever  and 
anon  turned  toward  the  girls,  with  an 
air  of  solicitude  at  once  respectful  and 
paternal.  He  leaned  upon  a  long-  staff ; 
his  still  robust  shoulders  carried  a  sol- 
dier's knapsack  ;  his  dusty  shoes,  and 
step  that  began  to  drag-  a  little,  showed 
that  he  had  walked  a  long-  way. 

One  of  those  dogs  which  the  tribes 
of  Northern  Siberia  harness  to  their 
sledg-es — a  sturdy  animal,  nearly  of  the 
size,  form,  and  hairy  coat  of  the  wolf — 
followed  closely  in  the  steps  of  the  leader 
of  this  little  caravan,  never  quitting1,  as 
it  is  commonly  said,  the  heels  of  his  mas- 
ter. 

Nothing-  could  be  more  charming-  than 
the  group  formed  by  the  girls.  One  held 
with  her  left  hand  the  flowing-  reins,  and 
with  her  rig-ht  encircled  the  waist  of  her 
sleeping-  sister,  whosa  head  reposed  on 
her  shoulder.  Each  step  of  the  horse 
g-ave  a  graceful  swaying-  to  these  pliant 
forms,  and  swung-  their  little  feet,  which 
rested  on  a  wooden  ledge  in  lieu  of  a 
stirrup. 

These  twin  sisters,  by  a  sweet  mater- 
nal caprice,  had  been  called  Rose  and 
Blanche ;  they  were  now  orphans,  as 
might  be  seen  by  their  sad  mourning- 


34  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

vestments,  already  much  worn.  Ex- 
tremely like  in  feature,  and  of  the  same 
size,  it  was  necessar3T  to  be  in  the  con- 
stant habit  of  seeing1  them  to  distinguish 
one  from  the  other.  The  portrait  of  her 
who  slept  not,  might  serve  then  for  both 
of  them ;  the  only  difference  at  the  mo- 
ment being,  that  Rose  was  awake,  and 
discharging  for  that  day  the  duties  of  elder 
sister — duties  thus  divided  between  them, 
according  to  the  fancy  of  their  guide,  who, 
being  an  old  soldier  of  the  empire,  and 
a  martinet,  had  judged  fit  thus  to  alter- 
nate obedience  and  command  between 
the  orphans. 

Greuze  would  have  been  inspired  by 
the  sight  of  those  sweet  faces,  coifed  hi 
close  caps  of  black  velvet,  from  beneath 
which  straj^ed  a  profusion  of  thick  ring- 
lets of  a  light  chestnut  color,  floating 
down  their  necks  and  shoulders,  and  set- 
ting, as  in  a  frame,  their  round,  firm, 
rosy,  satin-like  cheeks.  A  carnation, 
bathed  in  dew,  is  of  no  richer  softness 
than  their  blooming  lips  ;  the  wood  vio- 
let's tender  blue  would  appear  dark  be- 
side the  limpid  azure  of  their  large  eyes, 
in  which  are  depicted  the  sweetness  of 
their  characters,  and  the  innocence  of 
their  age ;  a  pure  and  white  forehead, 
small  nose,  dimpled  chin,  complete  these 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  £5 

graceful  countenances,  which  present  a 
delightful  blending  of  candor  and  gentle- 
ness. 

You  should  have  seen  them  too,  when, 
on  the  threatening  of  rain  or  storm,  the 
old  soldier  carefully  wrapped  them  both 
in  a  large  pelisse  of  reindeer  fur,  and 
pulled  over  their  heads  the  ample  hood  of 
th.is  impervious  garment;  then  nothing 
could  be  more  ^lovely  than  those  fresh  and 
smiling  little  faces,  sheltered  beneath  the 
dark-colored  cowl. 

But  now  the  evening  was  fine  and  calm; 
the  heavy  cloak  hung  in  folds  about  the 
knees  of  the  sisters,  and  the  hood  rested 
on  the  back  of  their  saddle. 

Rose,  still  encircling  with  her  right  arm 
the  waist  of  her  sleeping  sister,  contem- 
plated her  with  an  expression  of  ineffable 
tenderness,  akin  to  maternal;  for  Rose 
was  the  eldest  for  the  day,  and  an  elder 
sister  is  almost  a  mother. 

Not  only  did  the  orphans  idolize  each 
other ;  but,  by  a  psychological  phenom- 
enon, frequent  with  twins,  they  were  al- 
most always  simultaneously  affected  ;  the 
emotion  of  one  was  reflected  instantly  in 
the  countenance  of  the  other ;  the  same 
cause  would  make  both  of  them  start  or 
blush,  so  closely  did  their  young  hearts 
beat  in  unison  j  all  ingenuous  joys,  all 
Vui,.  A— * 


25  THE  WANDERING  JBW. 

bitter  griefs,  were  mutually  felt,  and 
shared  in  a  moment  between  them. 

In  their  infancy,  simultaneously  at- 
tacked by  a  severe  illness,  like  two 
flowers  on  the  same  stem,  they  had 
drooped,  grown  pale,  and  languished  to- 
gether ;  but  together  also  had  they  again 
found  the  pure,  fresh  hues  of  health. 

Xeed  it  be  said,  that  those  mysterious, 
indissoluble  links  which  united  the  twins, 
could  not  have  been  broken  without  strik- 
ing a  mortal  blow  at  the  existence  of  the 
poor  children? 

Thus  the  sweet  birds  called  love-birds, 
only  living  in  pairs,  as  if  endowed  with  a 
common  life,  pine,  despond,  and  die,  when 
parted  by  a  barbarous  hand. 

The  guide  of  the  orphans,  a  man  of 
about  fifty-five,  distinguished  by  his  mili- 
tary air  and  gait,  preserved  the  immortal 
type  of  the  warriors  of  the  republic  and 
the  empire — some  heroic  of  the  people, 
who  became,  in  one  campaign,  the  first 
soldiers  in  the  world — to  prove  what  the 
people  can  do,  have  done,  and  will  renew, 
when  the  rulers  of  their  choice  place  in 
them  confidence,  strength  and  their  hope. 

This  soldier,  guide  of  the  sisters,  and 
formerly  a  horstl-grenadier  of  the  Impe- 
rial Guard,  had  been  nicknamed  Dag-o- 
bert.  His  grave,  stern  countenance  was 


THE  WANDERING  JBW.  27 

strongly  marked;  his  long,  gray,  and 
thick  mustache  completely  concealed  his 
upper  lip,  and  united  with  a  large  impe- 
rial, which  almost  covered  his  chin  ;  his 
meager  cheeks,  brick-colored  and  tanned 
as  parchment,  were  carefully  shaven ; 
thick  eyebrows,  still  black,  overhung  and 
shaded  his  light  blue  eyes  ;  gold  ear-rings 
reached  down  to  his  white-edged  military 
stock  ;  his  top-coat,  of  coarse  gray  cloth, 
was  confined  at  the  waist  by  a  leathern 
belt ;  and  a  blue  foraging  cap,  with  a  red 
tuft  falling  on  his  left  shoulder,  covered 
his  bald  head. 

Once  endowed  with  the  strength  of 
Hercules,  and  having  still  the  heart  of  a 
lion — kind  and  patient,  because  he  was 
courageous  and  strong— Dagobert,  not- 
withstanding his  rough  exterior,  evinced 
for  his  orphan  charges  an  exquisite  solici- 
tude, a  watchful  kindness,  and  a  tender- 
ness almost  maternal.  Yes,  motherly ; 
for  the  heroism  of  affection  dwells  alike  in 
the  mother's  heart  and  the  soldier's. 

Stoically  calm,  and  repressing  all  emo- 
tion, the  unchangeable  coolness  of  Dago- 
bert never  failed  him  ;  and,  though  few 
were  less  given  to  drollery,  he  was  now 
and  then  highly  comic,  by  reason  of  the 
imperturbable  gravity  with  which  he  did 
everything. 


28  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

From  time  to  time,  as  they  journeyed  on, 
Dagobert  would  turn  to  bestow  a  caress 
or  friendly  word  on  the  good  white  horse 
upon  which  the  orphans  were  mounted. 
Its  furrowed  sides  and  long1  teeth  be- 
trayed a  venerable  age.  Two  deep  scars, 
one  on  the  flank  and  the  other  on  the 
chest,  proved  that  his  horse  had  been 
present  in  hot  battles ;  nor  was  it  without 
an  act  of  pride  that  he  sometimes  shook 
his  old  military  bridle,  the  brass  stud  of 
which  was  still  adorned  with  an  embossed 
eagle.  His  pace  was  regular,  careful,  and 
steady;  his  cpat  sleek,  and  his  bulk  mod- 
erate ;  the  abundant  foam  which  covered 
his  bit  bore  witness  to  that  health  which 
horses  acquire  by  the  constant,  but  not 
excessive,  labor  of  a  long  journey,  per- 
formed by  short  stages.  Although  he 
had  been  more  than  six  months  on  the 
road,  this  excellent  animal  carried  the 
orphans,  with  a  tolerably  heavy  portman- 
teau fastened  to  the  saddle,  as  freely  as 
on  the  day  they  started. 

If  we  have  spoken  of  the  excessive 
length  of  the  horse's  teeth — the  unques- 
tionable evidence  of  great  ag-e — it  is  chief- 
ly because  he  often  displayed  them,  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  acting-  up  to  his  name 
(he  was  called  Jovial),  by  playing  a  mis- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  29 

chievous  trick,  of  which  the  dog-  was  the 
victim. 

This  latter,  who,  doubtless,  for  the  sake 
of  contrast,  was  called  Spoilsport  (Rdbat- 
joie),  being1  always  at  his  master's  heels, 
foun'd  himself  within  the  reach  of  Jovial, 
who  from  time  to  time  nipped  him  deli- 
cately by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  lifted  him 
from  the  ground,  and  carried  him  thus 
for  a  moment.  The  dog,  protected  by  his 
thick  coat,  and  no  doubt  long  accustomed 
to  the  practical  jokes  of  his  companion, 
submitted  to  all  this  with  stoical  com- 
placency ;  save  that,  when  he  thought 
the  jest  had  lasted  long  enough,  he  would 
turn  his  head  and  growl.  Jovial  under- 
stood him  at  the  first  hint,  and  hastened 
to  set  him  down  again,  At  other  times, 
just  to  avoid  monotony,  Jovial  would  gent- 
ly bite  the  knapsack  of  the  soldier,  who 
seemed,  as  well  as  the  dog,  to  be  perfectly 
accustomed  to  his  pleasantries. 

These  details  will  give  a  notion  of  the 
excellent  understanding  that  existed  be- 
tween the  twin  sisters,  the  older  soldier, 
the  horse,  and  the  dog. 

The  little  caravan  proceeded  on  its  way, 
anxious  to  reach,  before  night,  the  village 
of  Mockern,  which  was  now  visible  on  the 
summit  of  a  hill.  Ever  and  anon,  Dago- 
bert  looked  around  him,  and  seemed  to  be 


30  THB  WANDERING  JEW. 

gathering-  up  old  recollections;  by  degrees, 
his  countenance  became  clouded,  and  when 
he  was  at  a  little  distance  from  the  mill, 
the  noise  of  which  had  arrested  his  atten- 
tion, he  stopped,  and  drew  his  long1  mus- 
tache several  times  between  his  finger  and 
thumb,  the  only  sign  which  revealed  in 
him  any  strong  and  concentrated  feeling. 

Jovial  having  stopped  short  behind  his 
master,  Blanche,  awaked  suddenly  by  the 
shock,  raised  her  head ;  her  first  look 
sought  her  sister,  on  whom  she  smiled 
sweetly;  then  both  exchanged  glances  of 
surprise,  on  seeing  Dagobert  motionless, 
with  his  hands  clasped  and  resting  on  his 
long  staff,  apparently  affected  by  some 
painful  and  deep  emotion. 

The  orphans  just  chanced  to  be  at  the 
foot  of  a  little  mound,,  the  summit  of 
which  was  buried  in  the  thick  foliage 
of  a  huge  oak,  planted  half  way  down 
the  slope.  Perceiving  that  Dagobert 
continued  motionless  and  absorbed  in 
thought,  Rose  leaned  over  her  saddle, 
and,  placing  her .  little  white  hand  on  the 
shoulder  of  their  guide,  whose  back  was 
turned  toward  her,  said  to  him,  in  a  soft 
voice  :  "  Whatever  is  the  matter  with 
you,  Dagobert  ?  " 

The  veteran  turned  ;  to  the  great  as- 
tonishment of  the  sisters,  they  perceived 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  81 

a  large  tear,  which  traced  its  humid  fur- 
row down  his  tanned  cheek,  and  lost  itself 
in  his  thick  mustache. 

"  You  weeping — you  !  "  cried  Rose  and 
Blanche  together,  deeply  moved.  "Tell 
us,  we  beseech,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  sol- 
dier brushed  his  horny  hand  across  his 
eyes,  and  said  to  the  orphans  in  a  falter- 
ing voice,  while  he  pointed  to  the  old  oak 
beside  them  :  "I  shall  make  you  sad,  my 
poor  children ;  and  yet  what  I'm  going 
to  tell  you  has  something  sacred  in  it. 
Well,  eighteen  years  ago,  on  the  eve  of 
the  great  battle  of  Leipsic,  I  carried  your 
father  to  this  very  tree.  He  had  two 
saber-cuts  on  the  head,  a  musket-ball  in 
his  shoulder  ;  and  it  was  here  that  he  and 
I — who  had  got  two  thrusts  of  a  lance 
for  my  share — were  taken  prisoners ;  and 
by  whom,  worse  luck  ? — why,  a  renegado! 
By  a  Frenchman — an  emigrant  marquis, 
then  colonel  in  the  service  of  Russia — and 
who  afterward — but  one  day  you  shall 
know  all." 

The  veteran  paused;  then,  pointing  with 
his  staff  to  the  village  of  Mockern,  he 
added:  "Yes,  yes,  I  can  recognize  the 
spot.  Yonder  are  the  heights  where  your 
brave  father — who  commanded  us  and  the 
Poles  of  the  Guard — overthrew  the  Rus- 


32  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

sian  Cuirassiers,  after  having-  carried  the 
battery.  Ah,  my  children  !  "  continued 
the  soldier,  with  the  utmost  simplicity, 
"  I  wish  you  had  seen  your  brave  father, 
at  the  head  of  our  brigade  of  horse,  rush- 
ing on  in  a  desperate  charge  in  the  thick 
of  a  shower  of  shells  ! — there  was  noth- 
ing like  it — not  a  soul  so  grand  as  he  !  " 

While  Dagobert  thus  expressed,  in  his 
own  way,  his  regrets  and  recollections, 
the  two  orphans — by  a  spontaneous  move- 
ment, glided  gently  from  the  horse,  and 
holding  each  other  by  the  hand,  went  to- 
gether to  kneel  at  the  foot  of  the  old  oak. 
And  there,  closely  pressed  in  each  other's 
arms,  they  began  to  weep  ;  while  the  sol- 
dier, standing  behind  them,  with  his  hands 
crossed  on  his  long  staff,  rested  his  bald 
front  upon  it. 

"  Come,  come,  you  must  not  fret,"  said 
he  softly,  when,  after  a  pause  of  a  few 
minutes,  he  saw  tears  run  down  the 
blooming  cheeks  of  Rose  and  Blanche, 
still  on  their  knees.  "Perhaps  we  may 
find  General  Simon  in  Paris,"  added  he; 
"  I  will  explain  all  that  to  you  this  even- 
ing at  the  inn.  I  purposely  waited  for 
this  day,  to  tell  you  many  things  about 
your  father ;  it  was  an  idea  of  mine,  be- 
cause this  day  is  a  sort  of  anniversary." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  88 

"  We  weep  because  we  think  also  of  our 
mother,"  said  Rose. 

"Of  our  mother,  whom  we  shall  only 
see  again  in  heaven,"  added  Blanche. 

The  soldier  raised  the  orphans,  took 
each  by  the  hand,  and  gazing-  from  one 
to  the  other  with  ineffable  affection,  ren- 
dered still  the  more  touching  by  the  con- 
trast of  his  rude  features,  "  You  must 
not  give  way  thus,  my  children,"  said 
he  ;  "  it  is  true  j^our  mother  was  the  best 
of  women.  When  she  lived  in  Poland, 
they  called  her  the  Pearl  of  Warsaw — it 
ought  to  have  been  the  Pearl  of  the  Whole 
World — for  in  the  whole  world  you  could 
not  have  found  her  match.  No — no  !  " 

The  voice  of  Dagobert  faltered ;  he 
paused,  and  drew  his  long  gray  mustache 
between  his  finger  and  thumb,  as  was  his 
habit.  "  Listen,  my  girls,"  he  resumed, 
when  he  had  mastered  his  emotion ;  "your 
mother  could  give  you  none  but  the  best 
advice,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Dagobert. " 

"  Well,  what  instructions  did  she  give 
you  before  she  died?  To  think  often  of 
her,  but  without  grieving? " 

"  It  is  true;  she  told  us  that  our  Father 
in  heaven,  always  good  to  poor  mothers 
whose  children  are  left  on  earth,  would 
permit  her  to  hear  us  from  above,"  said 
Blanche. 


84  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  And  that  her  eyes  would  be  ever  fixed 
upon  us,"  added  Rose. 

And  the  two  by  a  spontaneous  impulse, 
replete  with  the  most  touching1  grace, 
joined  hands,  raised  their  innocent  looks 
to  heaven,  and  exclaimed,  with  that  beau- 
tiful faith  natural  to  their  age:  "Is  it 
not  so,  mother? — thou  seest  us? — thou 
hearest  us?  " 

"  Since  your  mother  sees  and  hears 
you,"  said  Dagobert,  much  moved,  "do 
not  grieve  her  by  fretting.  She  forbade 
you  to  do  so." 

"You  are  right,  Dagobert.  We  will 
not  cry  any  more." — And  the  orphans 
dried  their  eyes. 

Dagobert,  in  the  opinion  of  the  devout, 
would  have  passed  for  a  very  heathen. 
In  Spain,  he  had  found  pleasure  in  cutting 
down  those  monks  of  all  orders  and  colors, 
who,  bearing  the  crucifix  in  one  hand, 
and  poniard  in  the  other,  fought  not  for 
liberty  —  the  Inquisition  had  strangled 
her  centuries  ago  —  but  for  their  mon- 
strous privileges.  Yet,  in  forty  years, 
Dagobert  had  witnessed  so  many  sublime 
and  awful  scenes — he  had  been  so  many 
times  face  to  face  with  death — that  the 
instinct  of  natural  religion,  common  to 
every  simple,  honest  heart,  had  always 
remained  uppermost  in  his  soul.  There- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  85 

fore,  though  he  did  not  share  in  the  con- 
soling- faith  of  the  two  sisters,  he  would 
have  held  as  criminal  any  attempt  to 
weaken  its  influence. 

Seeing  them  less  downcast,  he  thus 
resumed  :  "  That's  right,  my  pretty  ones: 
I  prefer  to  hear  you  chat  as  you  did  this 
morning  and  yesterday  —  laughing  at 
times,  and  answering  me  when  I  speak, 
instead  of  being  so  much  engrossed  with 
your  own  talk.  Yes,  yes,  my  little 
ladies  !  you  seem  to  have  had  famous 
secrets  together  these  last  two  days — so 
much  the  better,  if  it  amuses  you." 

The  sisters  colored,  and  exchanged  a 
subdued  smile,  which  contrasted  with  the 
tears  that  yet  filled  their  eyes,  and  Rose 
said  to  the  soldier,  with  a  little  embar- 
rassment :  "  No,  I  assure  you,  Dagobert, 
we  talk  of  nothing  in  particular." 

"  Well,  well,  I  don't  wish  to  know  it. 
Come,  rest  yourselves  a  few  moments 
more,  and  then  we  must  start  again  ;  for 
it  grows  late,  and  we  have  to  reach  Mock- 
ern  before  night,  so  that  we  may  be  early 
on  the  road  to-morrow." 

"  Have  we  still  a  long,  long  way  to 
go  ?"  asked  Rose. 

"  What,  to  reach  Paris  ?  Yes,  my  chil- 
dren ;  some  hundred  days'  march.  We 
don't  travel  quick,  but  we  get  on ;  and  we 


86  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

travel  cheap,  because  we  have  a  light 
purse.  A  closet  for  3rou,  a  straw  mattress 
and  a  blanket  at  your  door  for  me,  with 
Spoilsport  on  my  feet,  and  a  clean  litter 
for  old  Jovial,  these  are  our  whole  travel- 
ing expenses.  I  say  nothing-  about  food, 
because  you  two  tog-ether  don't  eat  more 
than  a  mouse,  and  I  have  learned  in 
Egypt  and  Spain  to  be  hungry  only  when 
it  suits." 

"Not  forgetting  that,  to  save  still 
more,  you  do  all  the  cooking  for  us,  and 
will  not  even  let  us  assist. " 

"And  to  think,  good  Dagobert,  that 
you  wash  almost  every  evening  at  our 
resting  place.  As  if  it  were  not  for  us 
to—" 

"  You  !  "  said  the  soldier,  interrupting 
Blanche,  "  I  allow  you  to  chap  your  pretty 
little  hands  in  soap-suds  !  Pooh  !  don't 
a  soldier  on  a  campaign  always  wash  his 
own  linen  ?  Clumsy  as  you  see  me,  I  was 
the  best  washerwoman  in  my  squadron — 
and  what  a  hand  at  ironing !  Not  to 
make  a  brag  of  it." 

"  Yes,  yes — you  can  iron  well — very 
well." 

"  Only  sometimes  there  will  be  a  little 
singe,"  said  Rose,  smiling. 

"  Bah !  when  the  iron  is  too  hot. 
Zounds  !  I  may  bring  it  as  near  my  cheek 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  87 

as  I  please ;  my  skin  is  so  tough  that  I 
don't  feel  the  heat,"  said  Dagobert,  with 
imperturbable  gravity. 

"  We  are  only  jesting,  good  Dagobert." 

"  Then,  children,  if  you  think  that  I 
know  my  trade  as  a  washerwoman,  let 
me  continue  to  have  your  custom  ;  it  is 
cheaper;  and,  on  a  journey,  poor  people 
like  us  should  save  where  we  can,  for  we 
must,  at  all  events,  keep  enough  to  reach 
Paris.  Once  there,  our  papers  and  the 
medal  you  wear  will  do  the  rest — I  hope 
so,  at  least." 

"  This  medal  is  sacred  to  us ;  mother 
gave  it  to  us  on  her  deathbed." 

"  Therefore,  take  care  that  you  do  not 
lose  it :  see,  from  time  to  time,  that  you 
have  it  safe." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Blanche,  as  she  drew 
from  her  bosom  a  small  bronze  medal, 
which  she  wore  suspended  from  her  neck 
by  a  chain  of  the  same  material.  The 
medal  bore  on  its  faces  the  following 
inscriptions : 


VICTIM 

of 

L.  C.  D.  J. 
Pray  for  me  ! 


February  the  13th,  1682. 


AT  PARIS, 

No.  3  Rue  St.  Francois, 

In  a  century  and  a  half 

vou  will  be. 


February  the  13th,  1832. 
PARIS, 


PRAY  FOR  ME  ! 


"  What  does  it  mean,  Dagobert  ?"  re- 
sumed   Blanche,    as    she    examined    the 


38  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

mournful  inscriptions.  "  Mother  was  not 
able  to  tell  us." 

"  We  will  discuss  all  that  this  evening, 
at  the  place  where  we  sleep,"  answered 
Dagobert.  "  It  grows  late :  let  us  be 
moving.  Put  up  the  medal  carefully, 
and  away  ! — We  have  yet  nearly  an  hour's 
march  to  arrive  at  quarters.  Come,  my 
poor  pets,  once  more  look  at  the  mound 
where  your  brave  father  fell — and  then — 
to  horse  !  to  horse  !  " 

The  orphans  gave  a  last  pious  glance 
at  the  spot  which  had  recalled  to  their 
guide  such  painful  recollections,  and,  with 
his  aid,  remounted  Jovial. 

This  venerable  animal  had  not  for  one 
moment  dreamed  of  moving;  but,  with 
the  consummate  forethought  of  a  veteran, 
he  had  made  the  best  use  of  his  time,  by 
taking  from  that  foreign  soil  a  large  con- 
tribution of  green  and  tender  grass,  be- 
fore the  somewhat  envious  eyes  of  Spoil- 
sport, who  had  comfortably  established 
himself  in  the  meadow,  with  his  snout 
protruding  between  his  forepaws.  On  the 
signal  of  departure,  the  dog  resumed  his 
post  behind  his  master,  and  Dagobert, 
trying  the  ground  with  the  end  of  his  long 
staff,  led  the  horse  carefully  along  by  the 
bridle,  for  the  meadow  was  growing  more 
and  more  marshy ;  indeed,  after  advanc- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  89 

ing  a  few  steps,  he  was  obliged  to  turn  off 
to  the  left,  in  order  to  regain  the  high 
road. 

On  reaching  Mockern,  Dagobert  asked 
for  the  least  expensive  inn,  and  was  told 
there  was  only  one  in  the  village — the 
White  Falcon. 

"Let  us  go  then  to  the  White  Falcon/' 
observed  the  soldier. 


CHAPTER  ILL 

THE     ARRIVAL. 

ALREADY  had  Morok  several  times 
opened  with  impatience  the  window  shut- 
ter of  the  loft  to  look  out  upon  the  inn 
yard,  watching-  for  the  arrival  of  the 
orphans  and  the  soldier.  Not  seeing 
them,  he  began  once  more  to  walk  slowly 
up  and  down,  with  his  head  bent  forward, 
and  his  arms  folded  on  his  bosom,  medi- 
tating on  the  best  means  to  carry  out  the 
plan  he  had  conceived.  The  ideas  which 
possessed  his  mind,  were,  doubtless,  of  a 
painful  character,  for  his  countenance 
grew  even  more  gloomy  than  usual. 

Notwithstanding  his  ferocious  appear- 
ance, he  was  Toy  no  means  deficient  in 
intelligence.  The  courage  displayed  in 
his  taming  exercises  (which  he  gravely 
attributed  to  his  recent  conversion),  a 


40  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

solemn  and  mystical  style  of  speech,  and 
a  hypocritical  affectation  of  austerity,  had 
given  him  a  species  of  influence  over  the 
people  he  visited  in  his  travels.  Long1 
before  his  conversion,  as  may  well  be 
supposed,  Morok  had  been  familiar  with 
the  habits  of  wild  beasts.  In  fact,  born 
in  the  north  of  Siberia,  he  had  been,  from 
his  boyhood,  one  of  the  boldest  hunters  of 
bears  and  reindeer;  later,  in  1810,  he  had 
abandoned  this  profession  to  serve  as 
guide  to  a  Russian  engineer,  who  was 
charged  with  an  exploring  expedition  to 
the  Polar  regions.  He  afterward  fol- 
lowed him  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  there, 
after  some  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  Morok 
became  one  of  the  imperial  couriers — those 
iron  automata,  that  the  least  caprice  of 
the  despot  hurls  in  a  frail  sledge  through 
the  immensity  of  the  empire,  from  Persia 
to  the  Frozen  Sea.  For  these  men,  who 
travel  night  and  day,  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning,  there  are  neither  seasons  nor 
obstacles,  fatigues  nor  dangers ;  living 
projectiles,  they  must  either  be  broken 
to  pieces,  or  reach  the  intended  mark. 
One  may  conceive  the  boldness,  the  vigor, 
and  the  resignation,  of  men  accustomed 
to  such  a  life. 

It  is  useless  to  relate   here  by  what 
series  of  singular  circumstances   Morok 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  41 

was  induced  to  exchange  this  rough  pur- 
suit for  another  profession,  and  at  last  to 
enter,  as  catechumen,  a  religious  house 
at  Friburg ;  after  which,  being  duly  and 
properly  converted,  he  began  his  nomadic 
excursions,  with  his  menagerie  of  un- 
known origin. 

Morok  continued  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  loft.  Night  had  come.  The  three 
persons  whose  arrival  he  so  impatiently 
expected  had  not  yet  made  their  appear- 
ance. His  walk  became  more  and  more 
nervous  and  irregular. 

On  a  sudden  he  stopped  abruptly, 
leaned  his  head  toward  the  window,  and 
listened.  His  ear  was  quick  as  a  savage's. 

"  They  are  here  !  "  he  exclaimed,  and 
his  fox-like  eye  shone  with  diabolic  joy. 
He  had  caught  the  sound  of  footsteps — a 
man's  and  a  horse's.  Hastening  to  the 
window-shutter  of  the  loft,  he  opened  it 
cautiously,  and  saw  the  two  young  girls 
on  horseback,  and  the  old  soldier  who 
served  them  as  a  guide,  enter  the  inn- 
yard  together. 

The  night  had  set  in  dark  and  cloudy ; 
a  high  wind  made  the  light  flicker  in  the 
lanterns  which  were  used  to  receive  the 
new  guests.  But  the  description  given  to 
Morok  had  been  so  exact  that  it  was  im- 


42  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

possible  to  mistake  them.  Sure  of  his 
prey,  he  closed  the  window. 

Having  remained  in  meditation  for  an- 
other quarter  of  an  hour — for  the  purpose, 
no  doubt,  of  thoroughly  digesting  his  pro- 
jects— he  leaned  over  the  aperture  from 
which  projected  the  ladder,  and  called, 
"  Goliath  !  " 

"  Master  !  "  replied  a  hoarse  voice. 

"  Come  up  to  me." 

"Here  I  am — just  come  from  the 
slaughter-house  with  the  meat." 

The  steps  of  the  ladder  creaked  as  an 
enormous  head  appeared  on  a  level  with 
the  floor.  The  new  comer,  who  was  more 
than  six  feet  high,  and  gifted  with  hercu- 
lean proportions,  had  been  well  named 
Goliath.  He  was  hideous.  His  squinting 
eyes  were  deep  set  beneath  a  low  and 
projecting  forehead ;  his  reddish  hair 
and  beard,  thick  and  coarse  as  horse- 
hair, gave  his  features  a  stamp  of  bestial 
ferocity  ;  between  his  broad  jaws,  armed 
with  teeth  which  resembled  fangs,  he  held 
by  one  corner  a  piece  of  raw  beef  weigh- 
ing ten  or  twelve  pounds,  finding  it,  no 
doubt,  easier  to  carry  in  that  fashion, 
while  he  used  his  hands  to  ascend  the 
ladder,  which  bent  beneath  his  weight. 

At  length  the  whole  of  this  tall  and 
huge  body  issued  from  the  aperture. 


THE  WANDBKING  JEW.  48 

Judging  by  his  bull  neck,  the  astonish- 
ing- breadth  of  his  chest  and  shoulders, 
and  the  vast  bulk  of  his  arms  and  legs, 
this  giant  need  not  have,  feared  to 
wrestle  single-handed  with  a  bear.  He 
wore  an  old  pair  of  blue  trousers  with  red 
stripes,  faced  with  tanned  sheep's-skin, 
and  a  vest,  or  rather  cuirass,  of  thick 
leather,  which  was  here  and  there  slashed 
by  the  sharp  claws  of  the  animals. 

When  he  was  fairly  on  the  floor,  Go- 
liath unclasped  his  fangs,  opened  hia 
mouth,  and  let  fall  the  great  piece  of  beef, 
licking  his  blood-stained  lips  with  greedi- 
ness. Like  many  other  mountebanks, 
this  species  of  monster  had  begun  by 
eating  raw  meat  at  fairs  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  public.  Thence  having  grad- 
ually acquired  a  taste  for  this  barbarous 
food,  and  uniting  pleasure  with  profit,  he 
engaged  himself  to  perform  the  prelude 
to  the  exercises  of  Morok,  by  devouring, 
in  the  presence  of  the  crowd,  several 
pounds  of  raw  flesh. 

"  My  share  and  Death's  are  below 
stairs,  and  here  are  those  of  Cain  and 
Judas,"  said  Goliath,  pointing  to  the 
chunk  of  beef.  "  Where  is  the  cleaver, 
that  I  may  cut  it  in  two  ?  No  preference 
here — beast  or  man — every  gullet  must 
have  its  own." 


44  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Then,  rolling  up  one  of  the  sleeves  of 
his  vest,  he  exhibited  a  forearm  hairy  as 
the  skin  of  a  wolf,  and  knotted  with  veins 
as  large  as  one's  thumb. 

"  I  say,  master,  where's  the  cleaver?  " 
he  again  began,  as  he  cast  round  his  eyes 
in  search  of  that  instrument.  But  in- 
stead of  replying  to  this  inquiry,  the 
Prophet  put  many  questions  to  his  dis- 
ciple. 

"  Were  you  below  when  just  now  some 
new  travelers  arrived  at  the  inn  ?  " 

"  Yes,  master ;  I  was  coming  from  the 
slaughter-house . ' ' 

"  Who  are  these  travelers  ?  " 

"Two  young  lasses  mounted  on  a 
white  horse,  and  an  old  fellow  with  a 
big  mustache.  But  the  cleaver  ?  My 
beasts  are  hungry  and  so  am  I — the 
cleaver  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  have  lodged 
these  travelers  ?  " 

"  The  host  took  them  to  the  far  end  of 
the  court-yard." 

"  The  building  which  overlooks  the 
fields?" 

"Yes,  master — but  the  cleaver — "  A 
burst  of  frightful  roaring  shook  the  loft, 
and  interrupted  Goliath. 

"  Hark  to  them  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  hun- 
ger has  driven  the  beasts  wild.  If  I  could 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  45 

roar,  I  should  do  as  they  do.  I  have  never 
seen  Judas  and  Cain  as  they  are  to-night ; 
they  leap  in  their  cages  as  if  they'd  knock 
all  to  pieces.  As  for  Death,  her  eyes 
shine  more  than  usual  like  candles.  Poor 
Death  !  " 

"  So  these  girls  are  lodged  in  the  build- 
ing at  the  end  of  the  court-yard,"  re- 
sumed Morok,  without  attending  to  the 
observances  of  Goliath. 

"  Yes,  yes — but,  in  the  devil's  name, 
where  is  the  cleaver  ?  Since  Karl  went 
away  I  have  to  do  all  the  work,  and  that 
makes  our  meals  very  late." 

"Did  the  old  man  remain  with  the 
"young-  girls  ?  "  asked  Morok. 

Goliath,  amazed  that,  notwithstanding1 
his  importunities,  his  master  should  still 
appear  to  neglect  the  animals'  supper,  re- 
garded the  Prophet  with  an  increase  of 
stupid  astonishment. 

"  Answer,  you  brute  !  " 

"  If  I  am  a  brute,  I  have  a  brute's 
strength,"  said  Goliath,  in  a  surly  tone, 
"  and  brute  against  brute,  I  have  not  al- 
ways come  the  worst  off." 

"  I  ask  if  the  old  man  remained  with 
the  girls,"  repeated  Morok. 

"  Well  then — no  !  "  returned  the  giant. 
"  The  old  man,  after  leading  his  horse  to 
the  stable,  asked  for  a  tub  and  some  wa- 


45  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

ter,  took  his  stand  under  the  porch — and 
there — by  the  light  of  a  lantern — he  is 
washing  out  clothes.  A  man  with  a  gray 
mustache !  paddling  in  soapsuds  like  a 
washerwoman — it?s  as  if  I  were  to  feed 
canaries  !  "  added  Goliath,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  with  disdain.  '"'But  now  I've 
answered  you,  master,  let  me  attend  to 
the  beasts*  supper  " — and,  looking  round 
for  something,  he  added,  "  where  is  the 
cleaver?" 

After  a  moment  of  thoughtful  silence, 
the  Prophet  said  to  Goliath,  "  You  will 
give  no  food  to  the  beasts  this  evening." 

At  first  the  giant  could  not  understand 
these  words,  the  idea  was  so  incomprehen- 
sible to  him. 

"  What  is  your  pleasure,  master  ?  " 
said  he. 

' '  I  forbid  you  to  give  any  food  to  the 
beasts  this  evening." 

Goliath  did  not  answer,  but  he  opened 
wide  his  squinting  eyes,  folded  his  hands, 
and  drew  back  a  couple  of  steps. 

"Well,  dost  hear  me?7*  said  Morok, 
with  impatience.  "  Is  it  plain  enough  ?  " 

"  Not  feed  ?  when  our  meat  is  there, 
and  supper  is  already  three  hours  after 
time  ! "  cried  Goliath,  with  ever-increas- 
ing amazement. 

"  Obey,  and  hold  your  tongue." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  47 

"You  must  wish  something- bad  to  hap- 
pen this  evening1.  Hunger  makes  the 
beasts  furious — and  me  also." 

"  So  much  the  better." 

"It'll  drive  'em  mad." 

"  So  much  the  better  !  " 

"  How,  so  much  the  better  ?    But — " 

"It  is  enough  !  " 

"  But,  devil  take  me,  I  am  as  hungry  as 
the  beasts  !  " 

"  Eat  then — who  prevents  it  ?  Your 
supper  is  ready,  as  you  devour  it  raw." 

"I  never  eat  without  my  beasts,  nor 
they  without  me." 

"  I  tell  you  again,  that,  if  you  dare  give 
any  food  to  the  beasts — I  will  turn  you 
away." 

Goliath  uttered  a  low  growl  as  hoarse 
as  a  bear's,  and  looked  at  the  Prophet 
with  a  mixture  of  anger  and  stupefac- 
tion. 

Morok,  having  given  his  orders,  walked 
up  and  down  the  loft  appearing  to  reflect. 
Then,  addressing  himself  to  Goliath,  who 
was  still  plunged  in  deep  perplexity,  he 
said  to  him  : 

"  Do  you  remember  the  burgomaster's, 
where  I  went  to  get  my  passport  signed  ? 
— to-day  his  wife  bought  some  books  and 
a  chaplet." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  giant,  shortly. 


48  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Go  and  ask  his  servant  if  I  may  be 
sure  to  find  the  burgomaster  early  to-mor- 
row morning." 

"  What  for  ?  " 

"  I  may,  perhaps,  have  something  im- 
portant to  communicate ;  at  all  events  say 
that  I  beg  him  not  to  leave  home  without 
seeing  me." 

"  Good  !  but  may  I  not  feed  the  beasts 
before  I  go  to  the  burgomaster's  ?  only 
the  panther,  who  is  most  hungry  ?  Come, 
master  ;  only  poor  Death  ?  just  a  little 
morsel  to  satisfy *her ;  Cain  and  I  and 
Judas  can  wait." 

"  It  is  the  panther,  above  all,  that  I  for- 
bid you  to  feed.  Yes,  her  above  all  the 
rest." 

"  By  the  horns  of  the  devil  !  "  cried  Go- 
liath, "  what  is  the  matter  with  you  to- 
day ?  I  can  make  nothing  of  it.  It  is  a 
pity  that  Karl's  not  here  ;  he,  being  cun- 
ning, would  help  me  to  understand  whj' 
you  prevent  the  beasts  from  eating  when 
they  are  hungry." 

"You  have  no  need  to  understand  it." 

"  Will  not  Karl  soon  come  back  ?  " 

"  He  has  already  come  back." 

"  Where  is  he,  then  ?  " 

"Off  again." 

"  What  can  be  going  on  here  ?    There 


Since  thou  art  pitiless,  thy  weary  way 

Thou'rt  doom'd  to  wander  till  the  Judgment  Day. 

The  Wandering  Jew,  Vol.  1. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  49 

is  something-  in  the  wind.     Karl  goes  and 
returns,  and  goes  again,  and — " 

"We  are  not  talking  of  Karl,  but  of 
you  ;  though  hungry  as  a  wolf  you  are 
cunning  as  a  fox,  and,  when  it  suits  you, 
as  cunning  as  Karl."  And,  changing  on 
the  sudden  his  tone  and  manner,  Morok 
slapped  the  giant  cordially  on  the  shoulder. 

"  What  !  am  I  cunning  ?  " 

"  The  proof  is,  that  there  are  ten  florins 
to  earn  to-night- — and  you  will  be  keen 
enough  to  earn  them,  I  am  sure." 

"  Why,  on  those  terms,  yes — I  am 
awake,"  said  the  giant,  smiling  with  a 
stupid,  self-satisfied  air.  "  What  must  I 
do  for  ten  florins  ?  " 

"  You  shall  see." 

"  Is  it  hard  work  ?  " 

"You  shall  see.  Begin  by  going  to  the 
burgomaster's — but  first  light  the  fire  in 
that  stove."  He  pointed  to  it  with  his 
finger. 

"  Yes,  master,"  said  Goliath,  somewhat 
consoled  for  the  delay  of  his  supper  by  the 
hope  of  gaining  ten  florins. 

"  Put  that  iron  bar  in  the  stove,"  added 
the  Prophet,  "  to  make  it  red-hot." 

"Yes,  master." 

"  You  will  leave  it  there ;  go  to  the  bur- 
gomaster's, and  return  hero  to  wait  for 
me." 
^  o   .1-3 


50  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"Yes,  master." 

"  You  will  keep  the  -fire  up  in  the 
stove." 

"Yes,  master." 

Morok  took  a  step  away,  but,  recollect- 
ing1 himself,  he  resumed  : 

"  You  say  the  old  man  is  busy  washing- 
under  the  porch  ?  " 

"Yes,  master." 

"  Forget  nothing :  the  iron  bar  in  the 
fire — the  burgomaster — and  return  here  to 
wait  my  orders."  So  saying,  Morok  de- 
scended by  the  trap-door  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MOROK   AND   DAGOBERT. 

GOLIATH  had  not  been  mistaken,  for 
Dagobert  was  washing  with  that  imper- 
turbable gravity  with  which  he  did  every- 
thing1 else. 

When  we  remember  the  habits  of  a 
soldier  a-field,  we  need  not  be  astonished 
at  this  apparent  eccentricity.  Dagobert 
only  thoug-ht  of  sparing  the  scanty  purse 
of  the  orphans,  and  of  saving-  them  all 
care  and  trouble ;  so  every  evening  when 
they  came  to  a  halt  he  devoted  himself  to 
all  sorts  of  feminine  occupations.  But  he 
was  not  now  serving  his  apprenticeship  in 
these  matters ;  many  times,  during1  his 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  61 

campaigns,  he  had  industriously  repaired 
the  damage  and  disorder  which  a  day  of 
battle  always  brings  to  the  garments  of 
the  soldier ;  for  it  is  not  enough  to  receive 
a  saber-cut — the  soldier  has  also  to  mend 
his  uniform  ;  for  the  stroke  which  grazes 
the  skin  makes  likewise  a  corresponding 
fissure  in  the  cloth. 

Therefore,  in  the  evening  or  on  the 
morrow  of  a  hard-fought  engagement, 
you  will  see  the  best  soldiers  (always 
distinguished  by  their  fine  military  ap- 
pearance) take  from  their  cartridge-box 
or  knapsack  a  housewife,  furnished  with 
needles,  thread,  scissors,  buttons,  and 
other  such  gear,  and  apply  themselves  to 
all  kinds  of  mending  and  darning,  with 
a  zeal  that  the  most  industrious  work- 
woman might  envy. 

We  could  not  find  a  better  opportunity 
to  explain  the  name  of  Dagobert,  given 
to  Francis  Baudoin  (the  guide  of  the 
orphans)  at  a  time  when  he  was  con- 
sidered one  of  the  handsomest  and  brav- 
est horse  grenadiers  of  the  Imperial 
Guard . 

They  had  been  fighting  hard  all  day, 
without  any  decisive  advantage.  In  the 
evening,  the  company  to  which  our  hero 
belonged  was  sent  as  outliers  to  occupy 
the  ruins  of  a  deserted  village.  Vedettes 


52  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

being-  posted,  half  the  troopers  remained 
in  saddle,  while  the  others,  having1  pick- 
eted their  horses,  were  able  to  take  a  little 
rest.  Our  hero  had  charged  valiantly 
that  day  without  receiving1  any  wound — 
for  he  counted  as  a  mere  memento  the 
deep  scratch  on  his  thigh  which  a  kaiser- 
litz  had  inflicted  in  awkwardly  attempting- 
an  upward  thrust  with  the  bayonet. 

"  You  donkey  :  my  new  breeches  !  " 
the  grenadier  had  exclaimed,  when  he 
saw  the  wide  yawning  rent,  which  he 
instantly  avenged  by  running  the  AUST 
trian  through  with  a  thrust  scientifically 
administered.  For  if  he  showed  a  stoical 
indifference  on  the  subject  of  injury  to  his 
skin,  it  was  not  so  with  regard  to  the  rip- 
ping up  of  his  best  parade  uniform. 

He  undertook,  therefore,  the  same 
evening,  at  the  bivouac,  to  repair  this 
accident.  Selecting  his  best  needle  and 
thread  from  the  stores  of  his  housewife, 
and  arming  his  finger  with  a  thimble,  he 
began  to  play  the  tailor  by  the  light  of 
the  watch-fire,  having  first  drawn  off  his 
cavalry-boots,  and  also  (if  it  must  be 
confessed)  the  injured  garment  itself, 
which  he  turned  the  wrong  side  out  the 
better  to  conceal  the  stitches. 

This  partial  undress  was  certainly  a 
breach  of  discipline :  but  the  captain,  as 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  63 

he  went  his  round,  could  not  forbear 
laughing-  at  the  sight  of  the  veteran  sol- 
dier, who,  gravely  seated,  in  a  squatting 
position,  with  his  grenadier  cap  on,  his 
regimental  coat  on  his  hack,  his  boots  by 
his  side,  and  his  galligaskins  in  his  lap, 
was  sewing  with  all  the  coolness  of  a 
tailor  upon  his  own  shop-board. 

Suddenly,  a  musket-shot  is  heard,  and 
the  vedettes  fall  back  upon  the  detach- 
ment, calling  to  arms.  "  To  horse  !  " 
cries  the  captain,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

In  a  moment,  the  troopers  are  in  their 
saddles,  the  unfortunate  clothes-mender 
having  to  lead  the  first  rank  :  there  is  no 
time  to  turn  the  unlucky  garment,  so  he 
slips  it  on,  as  well  as  he  can,  wrong  side 
out,  and  leaps  upon  his  horse,  without 
even  stopping  to  put  on  his  boots. 

A  party  of  Cossacks,  profiting  by  the 
cover  of  a  neighboring  wood,  had  at- 
tempted to  surprise  the  detachment :  the 
fight  was  bloody,  and  our  hero  foamed 
with  rage,  for  he  set  much  value  on  his 
equipments,  and  the  day  had  been  fatal 
to  him.  Thinking  of  his  torn  clothes  and 
lost  boots,  he  hacked  away  with  more 
fury  than  ever ;  a  bright  moon  illumined 
the  scene  of  action,  and  his  comrades 
were  able  to  appreciate  the  brilliant  valor 
of  our  grenadier,  who  killed  two  Cossacks, 


54  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  took  an  officer  prisoner,  with  his  own 
hand. 

After  this  skirmish,  in  which  the  de- 
tachment had  maintained  its  position,  the 
captain  drew  up  his  men  to  compliment 
them  on  their  success,  and  ordered  the 
clothes-mender  to  advance  from  the  ranks, 
that  he  might  thank  him  publicly  for  his 
gallant  behavior.  Our  hero  could  have 
dispensed  with  this  ovation,  hut  he  was 
not  the  less  obliged  to  obe}^.  Judge  of 
the  surprise  of  both  captain  and  troopers, 
when  they  saw  this  tall  and  stern-looking- 
figure  ride  forward  at  a  slow  pace,  with 
his  naked  feet  in  the  stirrups,  and  naked 
legs  pressing  the  sides  of  his  charger. 

The  captain  drew  near  in  astonishment ; 
but  recalling  the  occupation  of  the  sol- 
dier at  the  moment  when  the  alarm  was 
given,  he  understood  the  whole  mystery. 
"  Ha,  my  old  comrade  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
"  thou  art  like  King  Dagobert — wearing 
thy  breeches  inside  out." 

In  spite  of  discipline,  this  joke  of  the 
captain's  was  received  with  peals  of  ill- 
repressed  laughter.  But  our  friend,  sit- 
ting upright  in  his  saddle,  with  his  left 
thumb  pressing  the  well-adjusted  reins, 
and  his  sword-hilt  carried  close  to  his 
right  thigh,  made  a  half-wheel,  and  re- 
turned to  his  place  in  the  ranks  without 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  55 

changing1  countenance,  after  he  had  duly 
received  the  congratulations  of  his  cap- 
tain. From  that  day,  Francis  Baudoin  re- 
ceived and  kept  the  nickname  of  Dag-obert. 

Now  Dagobert  was  under  the  porch  of 
the  inn,  occupied  in  washing1,  to  the  great 
amazement  of  sundry  beer-drinkers,  who 
observed  him  with  curious  eyes  from  the 
large  common  room  in  which  they  were 
assembled. 

In  truth,  it  was  a  curious  spectacle. 
Dag-obert  had  laid  aside  his  gray  top- 
coat, and  rolled  up  the  sleeves  of  his 
shirt ;  with  a  vigorous  hand,  and  good 
supply  of  soap,  he  was  rubbing-  away  at 
a  wet  handkerchief,  spread  out  on  the 
board,  the  end  of  which  rested  in  a  tub 
full  of  water.  Upon  his  right  arm,  tat- 
tooed with  warlike  emblems  in  red  and 
blue  colors,  two  scars,  deep  enough  to  ad- 
mit the  finger,  were  distinctly  visible.  No 
wonder,  then,  that,  while  smoking  their 
pipes,  and  emptying  their  pots  of  beer,  the 
Germans  should  display  some  surprise  at 
the  singular  occupation  of  this  tall,  mus- 
tached,  bald-headed  old  man,  with  the 
forbidding-  countenance — for  the  features 
of  Dagobert  assumed  a  harsh  and  grim 
expression  when  he  was  no  longer  in  pres- 
ence of  the  two  girls. 

The  sustained  attention,  of  which  he  saw 


56  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

himself  the  object,  began  to  put  him  out 
of  patience,  for  his  employment  appeared 
to  him  quite  natural.  At  this  moment, 
the  Prophet  entered  the  porch,  and,  per- 
ceiving" the  soldier,  eyed  him  attentively 
for  several  seconds ;  then  approaching,  he 
said  to  him  in  French,  in  a  rather  sly  tone  : 
"  It  would  seem,  comrade,  that  you  have 
not  much  confidence  in  the  washerwomen 
of  Mockern  ?  " 

Dagobert,  without  discontinuing  his 
work,  half  turned  his  head  with  a  frown, 
looked  askant  at  the  Prophet,  and  made 
him  no  answer. 

Astonished  at  this  silence,  Morok  re- 
sumed :  "  If  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  you 
are  French,  my  fine  fellow.  The  words  on 
your  arm  prove  it,  and  your  military  air 
stamps  you  as  an  old  soldier  of  the  empire. 
Therefore  I  find,  that,  for  a  hero,  you  have 
taken  rather  late  to  wear  petticoats." 

Dagobert  remained  mute,  but  he  gnawed 
his  mustache,  and  plied  the  soap,  with 
which  he  was  rubbing  the  linen,  in  a  most 
hurried,  not  to  say  angry,  style ;  for  the 
face  and  words  of  the  beast-tamer  dis- 
pleased him  more  than  he  cared  to  show. 
Far  from  being  discouraged,  the  Prophet 
continued  :  "  I  am  sure,  my  fine  fellow, 
that  you  are  neither  deaf  nor  dumb ;  why, 
then,  will  you  not  answer  me  ?  " 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  57 

Losing1  all  patience,  Dagobert  turned 
abruptly  round,  looked  Morok  full  in  the 
face,  and  said  to  him,  in  a  rough  voice  : 
"  I  don't  know  you  :  I  don't  wish  to  know 
you  !  Chain  up  your  curb  !  "  And  he 
betook  himself  again  to  his  washing. 

"  But  we  may  make  acquaintance.  We 
can  drink  a  glass  of  Rhine  wine  together, 
and  talk  of  our  campaigns.  I  also  have 
seen  some  service,  I  assure  you  ;  and  that, 
perhaps,  will  induce  you  to  be  more  civil  " 

The  veins  on  the  bald  forehead  of  Dago- 
bert  swelled  perceptibly ;  he  saw  in  the 
look  and  accent  of  the  man,  who  thus  ob- 
stinately addressed  him,  something  de- 
signedly provoking ;  still  he  contained 
himself. 

"  I  ask  you,  why  should  you  not  drink 
a  glass  of  wine  with  me — we  could  talk 
about  France.  I  lived  there  a  long  time  ; 
it  is  a  fine  country  ;  and  when  I  meet 
Frenchmen  abroad,  I  feel  sociable — par- 
ticularly when  they  know  how  to  use  the 
soap  as  well  as  you  do.  If  I  had  a  house- 
wife I'd  send  her  to  your  school." 

The  sarcastic  meaning  was  no  longer 
disguised;  impudence  and  bravado  were 
legible  in  the  Prophet's  looks.  Thinking 
that,  with  such  an  adversary,  the  dispute 
might  become  serious,  Dagobert,  who 
wished  to  avoid  a  quarrel  at  any  price, 


58  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

carried  off  his  tub  to  the  other  end  of  the 
porch,  hoping1  thus  to  put  an  end  to  the 
scene  which  was  a  sore  trial  of  his  tem- 
per. A  flash  of  joy  lighted  up  the  tawny 
eyes  of  the  brute-tamer.  The  white  circle 
which  surrounded  the  pupil  seemed  to 
dilate.  He  ran  his  crooked  fingers  two  or 
three  times  through  his  yellow 'beard,  in 
token  of  satisfaction;  then  he  advanced 
slowly  toward  the  soldier,  accompanied 
by  several  idlers  from  the  common- 
room. 

Notwithstanding  his  coolness,  Dago- 
bert,  amazed  and  incensed  at  the  impu- 
dent pertinacit}^  of  the  Prophet,  was  at 
first  disposed  to  break  the  washing-board 
on  his  head  ;  but,  remembering  the  or- 
phans, he  thought  better  of  it. 

Folding  his  arms  upon  his  breast,  Morok 
said  to  him,  in  a  dry  and  insolent  tone  : 
"  It  is  very  certain  you  are  not  civil,  my 
man  of  suds ! "  Then,  turning  to  the 
spectators,  he  continued  in  German:  "I 
tell  this  Frenchman,  with  his  long  mus- 
tache, that  he  is  not  civil.  We  shall  see 
what  answer  he'll  make.  Perhaps  it  will 
be  necessary  to  give  him  a  lesson.  Heaven 
preserve  me  from  quarrels  !  "  he  added, 
with  mock  compunction;  "but  the  Lord 
has  enlightened  me — I  am  his  creature, 
and  I  ought  to  make  his  work  respected." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  59 

The  mystical  effrontery  of  this  perora- 
tion was  quite  to  the  taste  of  the  idlers  : 
the  fame  of  the  Prophet  had  reached  Mock- 
ern,  and,  as  a  performance  was  expected  on 
the  morrow,  this  prelude  much  amused  the 
company.  On  hearing  the  insults  of  his 
adversary,  Dagobert  could  not  help  saying 
in  the  German  language  :  "  I  know  Ger- 
man. Speak  in  German — the  rest  will 
understand  you." 

New  spectators  now  arrived  and  joined 
the  first  comers;  the  adventure  had  be- 
come exciting,  and  a  ring  was  formed 
around  the  two  persons  most  concerned. 

The  Prophet  resumed  in  German  :  "  I 
said  that  you  were  not  civil,  and  I  now 
say  you  are  grossly  rude.  What  do  you 
answer  to  that?  " 

"  Nothing!  "  said  Dagobert,  coldly,  as 
he  proceeded  to  rinse  out  another  piece  of 
linen. 

"Nothing!"  returned  Morok;  "that 
is,  very  little.  I  will  be  less  brief,  and 
tell  you,  that,  when  an  honest  man  offers 
a  glass  of  wine  civilly  to  a  stranger,  that 
stranger  has  no  right  to  answer  with  inso- 
lence, and  deserves  to  be  taught  manners 
if  he  does  so." 

Great  drops  of  sweat  ran  down  Dago- 
bert's  forehead  and  cheeks,  his  large  im- 
perial was  incessantly  agitated  by  nervous 


60  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

trembling1  —  but  he  restrained  himself. 
Taking-,  by  two  of  the  corners,  the  hand- 
kerchief which  he  had  just  dipped  in  the 
water,  he  shook  it,  wrung-  it,  and  began 
to  hum  to  himself  the  burden  of  the  old 
camp  ditty : 

"  Out  of  Tirlemont's  flea-haunted  den, 
We  ride  forth  next  day  of  the  sen, 
With  saber  in  hand,  ah  ! 
Good-by  to  Amanda,"  etc. 

The  silence  to  which  Dagobert  had  con- 
demned himself  almost  choked  him ;  this 
song-  afforded  him  some  relief. 

Morok,  turning  toward  the  spectators, 
said  to  them,  with  an  air  of  hypocritical 
restraint :  "  We  knew  that  the  soldiers  of 
Napoleon  were  pagans,  who  stabled  their 
horses  in  churches,  and  offended  the  Lord 
a  hundred  times  a  day,  and  who,  for  their 
sins,  were  justly  drowned  in  the  Beresina 
like  so  many  Pharaohs ;  but  we  did  not 
know  that  the  Lord,  to  punish  these  mis- 
creants, had  deprived  them  of  courage — 
their  single  gift.  Here  is  a  man,  who  has 
insulted,  in  me,  a  creature  favored  by 
divine  grace,  and  who  affects  not  to  un- 
derstand that  I  require  an  apology ;  or 
else--" 

"  What  ?  "  said  Dagobert,  without  look- 
ing at  the  Prophet. 

"  Or  you  must  give  me  satisfaction  ! — I 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  61 

have  already  told  you  that  I  have  seen 
service.  We  shall  easily  find  somewhere 
a  couple  of  swords,  and  to-morrow  morn- 
ing-, at  peep  of  day,  we  can  meet  behind  a 
wall,  and  show  the  color  of  our  blood — that 
is,  if  you  have  any  in  your  veins.?  " 

This  challenge  began  to  frighten  the 
spectators,  who  were  not  prepared  for 
so  tragical  a  conclusion. 

"What,  fight?— a  very  fine  idea!'* 
said  one.  "  To  get  yourselves  both 
locked  up  in  prison :  the  laws  against 
dueling  are  strict." 

"  Particularly  with  relation  to  strangers 
or  nondescripts,"  added  another.  "If 
they  were  to  find  you  with  arms  in 
your  hands,  the  burgomaster  would  shut 
you  up  in  jail,  and  keep  you  there  two  or 
three  months  before  the  trial." 

"  Would  you  be  so  mean  as  to  denounce 
us  ?  "  asked  Morok. 

"No,  certainly  not,"  cried  several; 
"  do  as  you  like.  We  are  only  giving 
you  a  friendly  piece  of  advice,  by  which 
you  may  profit,  if  you  think  fit." 

"  What  care  I  for  prison  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  Prophet.  "Only  give  me  a  couple 
of  swords,  and  you  shall  see  to-morrow 
morning  if  I  heed  what  the  burgomaster 
can  do  or  say." 

"What    would     you     do    with     two 


<J2  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

swords?"   asked   Dagobert,    quietly. 

"When  you  have  one  in  your  grasp, 
and  I  one  in  mine,  j^ou'd  see.  The 
Lord  commands  us  to  have  a  care  of 
his  honor !  " 

Dagobert  shrugged  his  shoulders,  made 
a  bundle  of  his  linen  in  his  handkerchief, 
dried  his  soap,  and  put  it  carefully  into 
a  little  oil-silk  bag- — then,  whistling1  his 
favorite  air  of  Tirlemont,  moved  to  de- 
part. 

The  Prophet  frowned  ;  he  began  to  fear 
that  his  challenge  would  not  be  accepted. 
He  advanced  a  step  or  so  to  encounter 
Dag-obert,  placed  himself  before  him,  as 
if  to  intercept  his  passage,  and,  fold- 
ing his  arms,  and  scanning  him  from 
head  to  foot  with  bitter  insolence,  said 
to  him  :  "  So !  an  old  soldier  of  that 
arch-robber,  Napoleon,  is  only  fit  for  a 
washerwoman,  and  refuses  to  fight ! " 

"Yes,  he  refuses  to  fight/'  answered 
Dagobert,  in  a  firm  voice,  but  becoming 
fearfully  pale.  Never,  perhaps,  had  the 
soldier  given  to  his  orphan  charge  such 
a  proof  of  tenderness  and  devotion.  For 
a  man  of  his  character  to  let  himself  be 
insulted  with  impunity,  and  refuse  to 
fight — the  sacrifice  was  immense  ! 

"  So  you  are  a  coward — you  are  afraid 
of  me — and  you  confess  it  ?  " 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  68 

At  these  words  Dagobert  made,  as  it 
were,  a  pull  upon  himself — as  if  a  sud- 
den thought  had  restrained  him  the  mo- 
ment he  was  about  to  rush  on  the 
Prophet.  Indeed,  he  had  remembered 
the  two  maidens,  and  the  fatal  hinder- 
ance  which  a  duel,  whatever  might  be  the 
result,  would  occasion  to  their  journey. 
But  the  impulse  of  anger,  though  rapid, 
had  been  so  significant — the  expression 
of  the  stern,  pale  face,  bathed  in  sweat, 
was  so  daunting,  that  the  Prophet  and 
the  spectators  drew  back  a  step. 

Profound  silence  reigned  for  some  sec- 
onds, and  then,  by  a  sudden  reaction, 
Dagobert  seemed  to  have  gained  the 
general  interest.  One  of  the  company 
said  to  those 'near  him:  "This  man  is 
clearly  not  a  coward." 

"  Oh,  no  !  certainly  not." 

"  It  sometimes  requires  more  courage 
to  refuse  a  challenge  than  to  accept  one.'* 

"After  all,  the  Prophet  was  wrong  to 
pick  a  quarrel  about  nothing — and  with  a 
stranger,  too." 

"Yes,  for  a  stranger,  if  he  fought  and 
was  taken  up,  would  have  a  good  long 
imprisonment." 

"And  then,  you  see,"  added  another, 
"  he  travels  with  two  young  girls.  In 
such  a  position,  ought  a  man  to  fight 


64  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

about  trifles  ?  If  he  should  be  killed  or 
put  in  prison,  what  would  become  of  them, 
poor  children  ?  " 

Dagobert  turned  toward  the  person 
who  had  pronounced  these  last  words. 
He  saw  a  stout  fellow,  with  a  frank  and 
simple  countenance ;  the  soldier  offered 
him  his  hand,  and  said  with  emotion  : 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

The  German  shook  cordially  the  hand 
which  Dagobert  .had  proffered,  and,  hold- 
ing it  still  in  his  own,  he  added  :  "  Do  one 
thing,  sir — share  a  bowl  of  punch  with 
us.  We  will  make  that  mischief-making 
Prophet  acknowledge  that  he  has  been 
too  touchy,  and  he  shall  drink  to  your 
health." 

Up  to  this  moment  the*  brute- tamer, 
enraged  at  the  issue  of  this  scene,  for 
he  had  hoped  that  the  soldier  would 
accept  his  challenge,  looked  on  with 
savage  contempt  at  those  who  had  thus 
sided  against  him.  But  now  his  features 
gradually  relaxed  ;  and,  believing  it  use- 
ful to  his  projects  to  hide  his  disappoint- 
ment, he  walked  up  to  the  soldier,  and 
said  to  him,  with  a  tolerably  good  grace : 
"  Well,  I  give  way  to  these  gentlemen. 
I  own  I  was  wrong.  Your  frigid  air  had 
wounded  me,  and  I  was  not  master  of 
myself.  I  repeat,  that  I  was  wrong," 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  65 

he  added,  with  suppressed  vexation ; 
"the  Lord  commands  humility — and — I 
beg-  your  pardon." 

This  proof  of  moderation  and  regret 
was  highly  appreciated  and  loudly  ap- 
plauded by  the  spectators.  "He  asks 
your  pardon ;  you  cannot  expect  more, 
my  brave  fellow  !  "  said  one  of  them,  ad- 
dressing Dagobert.  "Come,  let  us  all 
drink  together ;  we  make  you  this  offer 
frankly — accept  it  in  the  same  spirit." 

"Yes,  yes,  accept  it,  we  beg  you,  in 
the  name  of  your  pretty  little  girls," 
said  the  stout  man,  hoping  to  decide 
Dagobert  by  this  argument. 

"  Manjr  thanks,  gentlemen,"  replied 
he,  touched  by  the  hearty  advances  of 
the  Germans ;  "  you  are  very  worthy 
people.  But,  when  one  is  treated,  he 
must  offer  drink  in  return." 

"  Well,  we  will  accept  it — that's  under- 
stood. Each  his  turn,  and  all  fair.  We 
will  pay  for  the  first  bowl,  you  for  the 
'second." 

"  Poverty  is  no  crime,"  answered  Dago- 
bert ;  "  and  I  must  tell  you  honestly  that 
I  cannot  afford  to  pay  for  drink.  We 
have  still  a  long  journey  to  go,  and  I 
must  not  incur  any  useless  expenses." 

The  soldier  spoke  these  words  with  such 
firm,  but  simple  dignity,  that  the  Ger- 


06  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

mans  did  not  venture  to  renew  their  offer, 
feeling1  that  a  man  of  Dagobert's  character 
could  not  accept  it  without  humiliation. 

"Well,  so  much  the  worse,"  said  the 
stout  man.  "I  should  have  liked  to  clink 
glasses  with  you.  Good-night,  my  brave 
trooper  ! — good-night — for  it  grows  late, 
and  mine  host  of  the  Falcon  will  soon 
turn  us  out  of  doors." 

"  Good-night,  gentlemen,"  replied  Dag- 
obert,  as  he  directed  his  steps  toward  the 
stable  to  give  his  horse  a  second  allow- 
ance of  provender. 

Morok  approached  him,  and  said  in  a 
voice  even  more  humble  than  before  :  "  I 
have  acknowledged  my  error,  and  asked 
your  pardon.  You  have  not  answered 
me,  do  you  still  bear  malice  ?  " 

"  If  ever  I  meet  you,"  said  the  veteran, 
in  a  suppressed  and  hollow  tone,  "  when 
my  children  have  no  longer  need  of  me,  I 
will  just  say  two  words  to  you,  and  they 
will  not  be  long1  ones." 

Then  he  turned  his  back  abruptly  on 
the  Prophet,  who  walked  slowly  out  of 
the  yard. 

The  inn  of  the  White  Falcon  formed  a 
parallelogram.  At  one  end  rose  the  prin- 
cipal dwelling ;  at  the  other  was  a  range 
of  buildings  which  contained  sundry  cham- 
bers, let  at  a  low  price  to  the  poorer  sort 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  67 

of  travelers  ;  a  vaulted  passage  opened  a 
way  through  this  latter  into  the  country  ; 
finally,  on  either  side  of  the  court-yard 
were  sheds  and  stables,  with  lofts  and 
garrets  erected  over  them. 

Dagobert,  entering  one  of  these  stables, 
took  from  off  a  chest  the  portion  of  oats 
destined  for  his  horse,  and,  pouring  it  into 
a  winnowing  basket,  shook  it  as  he  ap- 
proached Jovial. 

To  his  great  astonishment,  his  old 
traveling  companion  did  not  respond  with 
a  joyous  neigh  to  the  rustle  of  the  oats 
rattling  on  the  wicker-work.  Alarmed, 
he  called  Jovial  with  a  friendly  voice,  but 
the  animal,  instead  of  turning  toward  his 
master  a  look  of  intelligence,  and  impa- 
tiently striking  the  ground  with  his  fore- 
feet, remained  perfectly  motionless. 

More  and  more  surprised,  the  soldier 
went  up  to  him.  By  the  dubious  light  of 
a  stable-lantern  he  saw  the  poor  animal 
in  an  attitude  which  implied  terror — his 
legs  half  bent,  his  head  stretched  for- 
ward, his  ears  down,  his  nostrils  quiver- 
ing ;  he  had  drawn  tight  his  halter,  as  if 
he  wished  to  break  it,  in  order  to  get 
away  from  the  partition  that  supported 
his  rack  and  manger ;  abundant  cold- 
sweat  had  speckled  his  hide  with  bluish 
stains,  and  his  coat  altogether  looked  dull 


<J8  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  bristling,  instead  of  standing1  out  sleek 
and  glossy  from  the  dark  background  of 
the  stable ;  lastly,  from  time  to  time,  his 
body  shook  with  convulsive  starts. 

"Why,  old  Jovial!"  said  the  soldier, 
as  he  put  down  the  basket,  in  order  to 
soothe  his  horse  with  more  freedom,  "you 
are  like  thy  master — afraid  ! — Yes,"  he 
added  with  bitterness,  as  he  thought  of 
the  offense  he  had  himself  endured,  "you 
are  afraid — though  no  coward  in  general." 

Notwithstanding  the  caresses  and  the 
voice  of  his  master,  the  horse  continued  to 
give  signs  of  terror ;  he  pulled  somewhat 
less  violently  at  his  halter,  and  approach- 
ing1 his  nostrils  to  the  hand  of  Dag-obert, 
sniffed  audibly,  as  if  he  doubted  it  were  he. 

"You  don't  know  me!"  cried  Dag-c- 
hert. "  Something1  extraordinary  must 
be  passing  here." 

The  soldier  looked  around  him  with  un- 
easiness. It  was  a  large  stable,  faintly 
lighted  by  the  lantern  suspended  from  the 
roof,  which  was  covered  with  innumerable 
cobwebs ;  at  the  further  end,  separated 
from  Jovial  by  some  stalls  with  bars  be- 
tween, were  the  three  strong,  black  horses 
of  the  brute-tamer — as  tranquil  as  Jovial 
was  frightened. 

Dagobert,  struck  with  this  singular  con- 
trast, of  which  he  was  soon  to  have  the 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  69 

explanation,  again  caressed  his  horse ; 
and  the  animal,  gradually  reassured  by 
his  master's  presence,  licked  his  hands, 
rubbed  his  head  against  him,  uttered  a 
low  neigh,  and  gave  him  his  usual  tokens 
of  affection. 

"  Come,  come,  this  is  how  I  like  to  see 
my  old  Jovial!"  said  Dagobert,  as  he 
took  up  the  winnowing-basket,  and  poured 
its  contents  into  the  manger.  "  Now  eat 
with  a  good  appetite,  for  we  have  a  long 
day's  march  to-morrow ;  and,  above  all, 
no  more  of  these  foolish  fears  about  noth- 
ing !  If  thy  comrade,  Spoilsport,  was 
here,  he  would  keep  you  in  heart ;  but  he 
is  along  with  the  children,  and  takes  care 
of  them  in  my  absence.  Come,  eat !  in- 
stead of  staring  at  me  in  that  way." 

But  the  horse,  having  just  touched  the 
oats  with  his  mouth,  as  if  in  obedience  to 
his  master,  returned  to  them  no  more, 
and  began  to  nibble  at  the  sleeve  of  Dag- 
obert's  coat. 

"  Come,  come,  my  poor  Jovial !  there 
is  something  the  matter  with  you.  You 
have  generally  such  a  good  appetite,  and 
now  you  leave  your  corn.  'Tis  the  first 
time  this  has  happened  since  our  depart- 
ure," said  the  soldier,  who  was  now 
growing  seriously  uneasy,  for  the  issue 


70  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

of  his  journey  greatly  depended  on  the 
health  and  vigor  of  his  horse. 

Just  then  a  frightful  roaring,  so  near 
that  it  seemed  to  come  from  the  stahle  in 
which  they  were,  gave  so  violent  a  shock 
to  Jovial,  that  with  one  effort  he  broke 
his  halter,  leaped  over  the  bar  that 
marked  his  place,  and,  rushing  at  the 
open  door,  escaped  into  the  court-yard. 

Dagobert  had  himself  started  at  the 
suddenness  of  this  wild  and  fearful  sound, 
which  at  once  explained  to  him  the  cause 
of  his  horse's  terror.  The  adjoining  stable 
was  occupied  by  the  itinerant  menagerie 
of  the  brute-tamer,  and  was  only  sepa- 
rated by  the  partition  which  supported  the 
mangers.  The  three  horses  of  the  Prophet, 
accustomed  to  these  howlings,  had  re- 
mained perfectly  quiet. 

"  Good  ! "  said  the  soldier,  recovering 
himself ;  "  I  understand  it  now.  Jovial 
has  hear'd  another  such  roar  before,  and 
he  can  scent  the  animals  of  that  insolent 
scoundrel.  It  is  enough  to  frighten  him," 
added  he,  as  he  carefully  collected  the 
oats  from  the  manger  ;  "  once  in  another 
stable,  and  there  must  be  others  in  this 
place,  he  will  no  longer  leave  his  peck, 
and  we  shall  be  able  to  start  early  to- 
morrow morning." 

The  terrified  horse,  after  running  and 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  71 

galloping1  about  the  yard,  returned  at  the 
voice  of  the  soldier,  who  easily  caught 
him  by  the  broken  halter ;  and  a  hostler, 
whom  Dagobert  asked  if  there  was  an- 
other vacant  stable,  having  pointed  out 
one  that  was  only  intended  for  a  single 
animal,  Jovial  was  comfortably  installed 
there. 

When  delivered  from  his  ferocious  neigh- 
bors, the  horse  became  tranquil  as  before, 
and  even  amused  himself  much  at  the 
expense  of  Dagobert's  top-coat,  which, 
thanks  to  his  tricks,  might  have  afforded 
immediate  occupation  for  his  master's 
needle,  if  the  latter  had  not  been  fully 
engaged  in  admiring  the  eagerness  with 
which  Jovial  dispatched  his  provender. 
Completely  reassured  on  his  account,  the 
soldier  shut  the  door  of  the  stable,  and 
proceeded  to  get  his  supper  as  quickly  as 
possible,  in  order  to  rejoin  the  orphans, 
whom  he  reproached  himself  with  having* 
left  so  long. 


78  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ROSE    AND    BLANCHE. 

THE  orphans  occupied  a  dilapidated 
chamber  in  one  of  the  most  remote  wings 
of  the  inn,  with  a  single  window  opening1 
upon  the  county.  A  bed  without  cur- 
tains, a  table,  and  two  chairs,  composed 
the  more  than  modest  furniture  of  this 
retreat,  which  was  now  lighted  by  a 
lamp.  On  the  table,  which  stood  near 
the  window,  was  deposited  the  knapsack 
of  the  soldier. 

The  great  Siberian  dog,  who  was  lying 
olose  to  the  door,  had  already  twice  ut- 
tered a  deep  growl,  and  turned  his  head 
toward  the  window — but  without  giving 
any  further  effect  to  this  hostile  mani- 
festation. 

The  two  sisters,  half  recumbent  in  their 
bed,  were  clad  in  long  white  wrappers, 
buttoned  at  the  neck  and  wrists.  They 
wore  no  caps,  but  their  beautiful  chest- 
nut hair  was  confined  at  the  temples  by  a 
broad  piece  of  tape,  so  that  it  might  not 
get  tangled  during  the  night.  These 
white  garments,  and  the  white  fillet  that 
like  a  halo  encircled  their  brows,  gave  to 


Spellbound,  they  gather  far  and  near  tc  scan 
The  weird  senescence  of  that  wondrous  man. 

The  Wandering  Jew,  Vol.  1 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  73 

their  fresh  and  blooming  faces  a  still  more 
candid  expression. 

The  orphans  laughed  and  chatted,  for, 
in  spite  of  some  early  sorrows,  they  still 
retained  the  ingenuous  gayety  of  their 
age.  The  remembrance  of  their  mother 
would  sometimes  make  them  sad,  but 
this  sorrow  had  in  it  nothing  bitter;  it 
was  rather  a  sweet  melancholy,  to  be 
sought  instead  of  shunned.  For  them, 
this  adored  mother  was  not  dead — she 
was  only  absent. 

Almost  as  ignorant  as  Dagobert  with 
regard  to  devotional  exercises,  for  in  the 
desert  where  they  had  lived  there  was 
neither  church  nor  priest,  their  faith,  as 
was  already  said,  consisted  in  this — that 
God,  just  and  good,  had  so  much  pity  for 
the  poor  mothers  whose  children  were  left 
on  earth,  that  he  allowed  them  to  look 
down  upon  them  from  highest  heaven — 
to  see  them  always,  to  hear  them  always, 
and  sometimes  to  send  fair  guardian 
angels  to  protect  them.  Thanks  to  this 
guileless  illusion,  the  orphans,  persuaded 
that  their  mother  incessantly  watched 
over  them,  felt  that  to  do  wrong  would 
be  to  afflict  her,  and  to  forfeit  the  pro- 
tection of  the  good  angels.  This  was  the 
entire  theology  of  Rose  and  Blanche — a 
VOL.  1—4 


74  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

creed  sufficient  for  such  pure  and  loving- 
souls. 

Now,  on  the  evening-  in  question,  the 
two  sisters  chatted  together  while  wait- 
ing for  Dagobert.  Their  theme  interested 
them  much,  for,  since  some  days,  they 
had  a  secret,  a  great  secret,  which  often 
quickened  the  beatings  of  their  innocent 
hearts,  often  agitated  their  budding 
bosoms,  changed  to  bright  scarlet  the 
roses  on  their  cheeks,  and  infused  a  rest- 
less and  dreamy  languor  into  the  soft  blue 
of  their  large  eyes. 

Rose,  this  evening,  occupied  the  edge  of 
the  couch,  with  her  rounded  arms  crossed 
behind  her  head,  which  was  half- turned 
toward  her  sister  ;  Blanche,  with  her 
elbow  resting  on  the  bolster,  looked  at 
her  smilingly,  and  said  :  "Do  you  think 
he  will  come  again  to-night  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  certainly.  He  promised  us 
yesterday."  • 

"  He  is  so  good,  he  would  hot  break  his 
promise." 

"  And  so  handsome,  with  his  long  fair 
curls." 

"And  his  name — what  a  charming 
name  ! — how  well  it  suits  his  face." 

"And  what  a  sweet  smile  and  soft 
voice,  when  he  says  to  us,  taking  us  by 
the  hand :  '  My  children,  bless  God  that 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  75 

he  has  given  you  one  soul.  What  others 
seek  elsewhere,  you  will  find  in  your- 
selves. ' ' 

"'  Since  your  two  hearts/  he  added, 
'  only  make  one.' ' 

"  What  pleasure  to  remember  his  words, 
sister  !  " 

"  We  are  so  attentive  !  When  I  see  you 
listening  to  him  it  is  as  if  I  saw  myself, 
my  dear  little  mirror  !  "  said  Rose,  laugh- 
.  ing-,  and  kissing  her  sister's  forehead. 
"  Well — when  he  speaks,  your — or  rather 
our  eyes — are  wide,  wide  open,  our  lips 
moving  as  if  we  repeated  every  word  after 
him.  It  is  no  wonder  we  forget  nothing 
that  he  says." 

"And  what  he  says  is  so  grand,  so 
noble,  and  generous." 

"  Then,  my  sister,  as  he  goes  on  talking, 
what  good  thoughts  rise  within  us  !  If 
we  could  but  always  keep  them  in  mind." 

"  Do  not  be  afraid  !  they  will  remain 
in  our  hearts,  like  little  birds  in  their 
mother's  nest." 

"And  how  lucky  it  is,  Rose,  that  he 
loves  us  both  at  the  same  time  !  " 

"  He  could  not  do  otherwise,  since  we 
have  but  one  heart  between  us." 

"How  could  he  love  Rose,  without 
loving  Blanche  ?  " 


76  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

'•*  What  would  have  become  of  the  poor 
neglected  one  ?  " 

"  And  then  again  he  would  have  found 
i>  so  difficult  to  choose." 

"We  are  so  much  like  one  another." 

"  So,  to  save  himself  that  trouble,"  said 
Rose,  laughing,  "  he  has  chosen  us  both." 

"  And  is  it  not  the  best  way  ?  He  is 
alone  to  love  us  ;  we  are  two  together  to 
think  of  him.  Only  he  must  not  leave  us 
till  we  reach  Paris." 

"And  in  Paris,  too — we  must  see  him 
there  also." 

"  Oh,  above  all  at  Paris  ;  it  will  be  good 
to  have  him  with  us — and  Dagobert,  too 
— in  that  great  city.  Only  think,  Blanche, 
how  beautiful  it  must  be." 

"  Paris  ! — it  must  be  like  a  city  all  of 
gold." 

"  A  city  where  every  one  must  be 
happy,  since  it  is  so  beautiful." 

"  But  ought  we,  poor  orphans,  dare  so 
much  as  to  enter  it  ?  How  people  will 
look  at  us  !  " 

"  Yes — but  every  one  there  is  happy, 
every  one  must  be  good  also." 

"  They  will  love  us." 

"  And,  besides,  we  shall  be  with  our 
friend  with  the  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes." 

"  He  has  yet  told  us  nothing  of  Paris." 

"  He  has  not  thought  of  it ;  we  must 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  77 

speak  to  him  about  it  this  very  night." 

'  •'  If  he  is  in  the  mood  for  talking. 
Often,  3^011  know,  he  likes  best  to  gaze  on 
us  in  silence — his  eyes  on  our  eyes." 

"  Yes.  In  those  moments,  his  look  re- 
calls to  me  the  gaze  of  our  dear  mother." 

"  And,  as  she  sees  it  all,  how  pleased 
she  must  be  at  what  has  happened  to  us!" 

"  Because,  when  we  are  so  much  be- 
loved, we  must,  I  hope,  deserve  it." 

"  See  what  a  vain  thing  it  is !  "  said 
Blanche,  smoothing  with  her  slender  fin- 
gers the  parting  of  the  hair  on  her  sister's 
forehead. 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  Rose  said 
to  her  :  "  Don't  you  think  we  should  re- 
late  all  this  to  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  If  you  think  so,  let  us  do  it." 

"  We  tell  him  every thing,  as  we  told 
everything  to  mother.  Why  should  we 
conceal  this  from  him  ?  " 

"  Especially  as  it  is  something  which 
gives  us  so  much  pleasure." 

"Do  you  not  find  that,  since  we  have 
known  our  friend,  our  hearts  beat  quicker 
and  stronger  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  seem  to  be  more  full." 

"  The  reason  why  is  plain  enough  ;  our 
friend  fills  up  a  good  space  in  them." 

"  Well,  we  will  do  best  to  tell  Dagobert 
what  a  lucky  star  ours  is." 


78  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"You  are  right — "  At  this  moment 
the  dog  gave  another  deep  growl. 

"Sister,"  said  Rose,  as  she  pressed 
closer  to  Blanche,  •'•'  there  is  the  dog- 
growling  again.  What  can  be  the  mat- 
ter with  him  ?  " 

"  Spoilsport,  do  not  growl !  Come 
hither,'*  said  Blanche,  striking  with  her 
little  hand  on  the  side  of  the  bed. 

The  dog  rose,  again  growled  deeply, 
and  came  to  lay  his  great,  intelligent- 
looking  head  on  the  counterpane,  still 
obstinately  casting  a  sidelong  glance  at 
the  window  ;  the  sisters  bent  over  him  to 
pat  his  broad  forehead,  in  the  center  of 
which  was  a  remarkable  bump,  the  cer- 
tain sign  of  extreme  purity  of  race. 

"What  makes  you  growl  so,  Spoil- 
sport?" said  Blanche,  pulling  him  gent- 
ly by  the  ears — "  eh,  my  good  dog  ?  " 

"  Poor  beast  !  he  is  always  so  uneasy 
when  Dagobert  is  away." 

"  It  is  true ;  one  would  think  he  knows 
that  he  then  has  a  double  charge  over 
us." 

"  Sister,  it  seems  to  me  Dagobert  is 
late  in  coming  to  say  good-night." 

"No  doubt  he  is  attending  to  Jovial." 

"  That  makes  me  think  that  we  did  not 
bid  good-night  to  dear  old  Jovial." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  79 

"  Poor  beast !  he  seems  so  glad  when 
he  licks  our  hands.  One  would  think  that 
he  thanked  us  for  our  visit." 

"Luckily,  Dagobert  will  have  wished 
him  good-night  for  us." 

"  Good  Dagobert !  he  is  always  think- 
ing- of  us.  How  he  spoils  us  !  We  re- 
main idle,  and  he  has  all  the  trouble." 

"  How  can  we  prevent  it  ?  " 

"  What  a  pity  that  we  are  not  rich,  to 
give  him  a  little  rest." 

"  We  rich  !  Alas,  my  sister  !  we  shall 
never  be  anything-  but  poor  orphans." 

"  Oh,  there's  the  medal !  " 

"  Doubtless,  there  is  some  hope  at- 
tached to  it,  else  we  should  not  have 
made  this  long-  journey." 

"  Dag-obert  has  promised  to  tell  us  all, 
this  evening." 

She  was  prevented  from  continuing,  for 
two  of  the  window-panes  flew  to  pieces 
with  a  loud  crash. 

The  orphans,  with  a  cry  of  terror,  threw 
themselves  into  each  other's  arms,  while 
the  dog  rushed  toward  the  window,  bark- 
ing furiously. 

Pale,  trembling,  motionless  with  af- 
fright, clasping  each  other  in  a  close  em- 
brace, the  two  sisters  held  their  breath  ; 
in  their  extreme  fear  they  durst  not  even 
cast  their  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  win- 


80  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

dow.  The  dog-,  with  his  forepaws  resting 
on  the  sill,  continued  to  bark  with  vio- 
lence. 

"  Alas  !  what  can  it  be?  "  murmured 
the  orphans.  "  And  Dagobert  not  here!" 

"  Hark  !  "  cried  Rose,  suddenly  seizing1 
Blanche  by  the  arm;  "hark! — some  one 
coming-  up  the  stairs  !  " 

"  Good  heaven  !  it  does  not  sound  like 
the  tread  of  Dagobert.  Do  you  not  hear 
what  heavy  footsteps  ?  " 

"  Quick  !  come,  Spoilsport,  and  defend 
us  !  "  cried  the  two  sisters  at  once,  in  an 
agony  of  alarm . 

The  boards  of  the  wooden  ,  staircase 
really  creaked  beneath  the  weig-ht  of  un- 
usually heavy  footsteps,  and  a  singular 
kind  of  rustling-  was  heard  along-  the  thin 
partition  that  divided  the  chamber  from 
the  landing-place.  Then  a  ponderous  mass, 
falling  against  the  door  of  the  room,  shook 
it  violently;  and  the  girls,  at  the  very 
height  of  terror,  looked  at  each  other 
without  the  power  to  speak. 

The  door  opened.     It  was  Dagobert. 

At  the  sight  of  him  Rose  and  Blanche 
joyfully  exchanged  a  kiss,  as  if  they  had 
just  escaped  from  a  great  danger. 

"What  is  the  matter?  why  are  you 
afraid  ?  "  asked  the  soldier  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  if  you  only  knew  !"  said   Rose, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  81 

panting  as  she  spoke,  for  both  her  own 
heart  and  her  sister's  beat  with  violence. 

"  If  you  knew  what  has  just  happened  ! 
We  did  not  recognize  your  footsteps — 
they  seemed  so  heavy — and  then  that 
noise  behind  the  partition  !  " 

"  Little  frightened  doves  that  you  are  ! 
I  could  not  run  up  the  stairs  like  a  boy  of 
fifteen,  seeing-  that  I  carried  my  bed  upon 
my  back — a  straw  mattress  that  I  have 
just  flung  down  before  your  door,  to  sleep 
there  as  usual." 

"  Bless  me  !  how  foolish  we  must  be, 
sister,  not  to  have  thought  of  that !  " 
said  Rose,  looking  at  Blanche.  And  their 
pretty  faces,  which  had  together  grown 
pale,  together  resumed  their  natural  color. 

During  this  scene  the  dog,  still  resting 
against  the  window,  did  not  cease  bark- 
ing a  moment. 

"  What  makes  Spoilsport  bark  in  that 
direction,  my  children  ?  "  said  the  soldier. 

"  We  do  not  know.  Two  of  our  window- 
panes  have  just  been  broken.  That  is 
what  first  frightened  us  so  much." 

Without  answering  a  word  Dagobert 
flew  to  the  window,  opened  it  quickly, 
pushed  back  the  shutter,  and  leaned  out. 

He  saw  nothing;  it  was  dark  night. 
He  listened  ;  but  heard  only  the  moan- 
ing of  the  wind, 


83  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Spoilsport,"  said  he  to  his  dog,  point 
ing"  to  the  open  window,  "leap  out,  old 
fellow,  and  search  !  "  The  faithful  animal 
took  one  mighty  spring  and  disappeared 
by"  the  window,  raised  only  about  eight 
feet  above  the  ground. 

Dagobert,  still  leaning  over,  encour- 
aged his  dog  with  voice  and  gesture  : 
"  Search,  old  fellow,  search  !  If  there  is 
any  one  there,  pin  him — your  fangs  are 
strong — and  hold  him  fast  till  I  come." 

But  Spoilsport  found  no  one.  They 
heard  him  go  backward  and  forward, 
snuffing  on  every  side,  and  now  and  then 
uttering  a  low  cry  like  a  hound  at  fault. 

"  There  is  no  one,  my  good  dog,  that's 
clear,  or  you  would  have  had  him  by  the 
throat  ere  this."  Then,  turning  to  the 
maidens,  who  listened  to  his  words  and 
watched  his  movements  with  uneasiness  : 
"My  girls,"  said  he,  "how  were  these 
panes  broken?  Did  you  not  remark?" 

"  No,  Dagobert ;  we  were  talking  to- 
gether when  we  heard  a  great  crash,  and 
then  the  glass  fell  into  the  room." 

"It  seemed  to  me,"  added  Rose,  "as 
if  a  shutter  had  struck  suddenly  against 
the  window." 

Dagobert  examined  the  shutter,  and 
observed  a  long  movable  hook,  designed 
to  fasten  it  on  the  inside. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  83 

"It  blows  hard,"  said  he;  "the  wind 
must  have  swung  round  the  shutter,  and 
this  hook  broke  the  window.  Yes,  yes ; 
that  is  it.  What  interest  could  anybody 
have  to  play  such  a  sorry  trick  ?"  Then, 
speaking-  to  Spoilsport,  he  asked  :  "  Well, 
my  good  fellow,  is  there  no  one  ?" 

The  dog  answered  by  a  bark,  which  the 
soldier  no  doubt  understood  as  a  negative, 
for  he  continued  :  "  Well,  then,  come 
back !  Make  the  round — you  will  find 
some  door  open  —  you  are  never  at  a 
loss." 

The  animal  followed  this  advice.  After 
growling  for  a  few  seconds  beneath  the 
window,  he  set  off  at  a  gallop  to  make  the 
circuit  of  the  buildings,  and  come  back  by 
the  court-yard. 

"  Be  quite  easy,  my  children  !"  said  the 
soldier,  as  he  again  drew  near  the  or- 
phans ;  "it  was  only  the  wind." 

"  We  were  a  good  deal  frightened," 
said  Rose. 

"  I  believe  you.  But  now  I  think  of  it, 
this  draught  is  likely  to  give  you  cold." 
And  seeking  to  remed}'  this  inconvenience, 
he  took  from  a  chair  the  reindeer  pelisse, 
and  suspended  it  from  the  spring-catch 
of  the  curtainless  window,  using  the  skirts 
to  stop  up  as  closely  as  possible  the  two 


84  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

opening's  made  by  the    breaking1  of  the 
panes. 

"Thanks,  Dagobert,  how  good  you 
are  !  We  were  very  uneasy  at  not  seeing1 
you." 

"Yes,  you  rvere  absent  longer  than 
usual.  But  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?  "  added  Hose,  only  just  then  per- 
ceiving" that  his  countenance  was  dis- 
turbed and  pallid,  for  he  was  still  under 
the  painful  influence  of  the  brawl  with 
Morok  ;  "how  pale  you  are !" 

"Me,  my  pets  ?    Oh,  nothing." 

"Yes,  I  assure  you,  your  countenance 
is  quite  changed.  Rose  is  right." 

"I  tell  you  there  is  nothing  the  mat- 
ter," answered  the  soldier,  not  without 
some  embarrassment,  for  he  was  little  used 
to  deceive  ;  till,  finding  an  excellent  excuse 
for  his  emotion,  he  added  :  "  If  I  do  look 
at  all  uncomfortable,  it  is  your  fright  that 
has  made  me  so,  for  indeed  it  was  my 
fault." 

"Your  fault !" 

"  Yes ;  for  if  I  had  not  lost  so  much 
time  at  supper,  I  should  have  been  here 
when  the  window  was  broken,  and  have 
spared  you  the  fright." 

"Anyhow,  you  are  here  now,  and  we 
think  no  more  of  it." 

"  Why  don't  you  sit  down  ?" 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  95 

"  I  will,  my  children,  for  we  have  to 
talk  together,"  said  Dagobert,  as  he 
drew  a  chair  close  to  the  head  of  the  bed. 
"Now  tell  me,  are  you  quite  awake?" 
he  added,  trying1  to  smile  in  order  to  re- 
assure them.  "  Are  those  large  eyes 
properly  open  ?" 

"Look,  Dag-obert!"  cried  the  two 
girls,  smiling  in  their  turn,  and  opening 
their  blue  eyes  to  the  utmost  extent. 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  soldier;  "they 
are  yet  far  enough  from  shutting;  be- 
sides, it  is  only  nine  o'clock." 

"  We  also  have  something  to  tell,  Dag- 
obert,"  resumed  Rose,  after  exchanging- 
glances  with  her  sister. 

"  Indeed  ! " 

"  A  secret  to  tell  you." 

"  A  secret  ?  " 

"Yes,  to  be  sure." — "Ah,  and  a  very 
great  secret !  "  added  Rose,  quite  seri- 
ously. 

"A  secret  which  concerns  us  both," 
resumed  Blanche. 

"  Faith  !  I  should  think  so.  What 
concerns  the  one  always  concerns  the 
other.  Are  you  not  always,  as  the  say- 
ing goes,  '  two  faces  under  one  hood  '  ?" 

"  Truly,  how  can  it  be  otherwise,  when 
you  put  our  heads  under  the  great  hood 
of  your  pelisse  ?  "  said  Rose,  laughing. 


gQ  TUB  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  There  they  are  again,  mocking-birds 
One  never  has  the   last  word  with  them. 
Come,  ladies,  your  secret,  since  a  secret 
there  is." 

"Speak,  sister,"  said  Rose. 

"  No,  miss,  it  is  for  you  to  speak.  You 
are  to-da}r  on  duty,  as  eldest,  and  such  an 
important  thing-  as  telling  a  secret  like 
that  you  talk  of  belongs  of  right  to  the 
elder  sister.  Come,  I  am  listening  to 
you,"  added  the  soldier,  as  he  forced  a 
smile,  the  better  to  conceal  from  the 
maidens  how  much  he  still  felt  the  un- 
punished affronts  of  the  brute-tamer. 

It  was  Rose  (who,  as  Dagobert  said, 
was  doing  duty  as  eldest)  that  spoke  for 
herself  and  for  her  sister. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   SECRET. 

"  FIRST  of  all,  good  Dagobert,"  said 
Rose,  in  a  gracefully  caressing  manner, 
"as  we  are  going  to  tell  our  secret — you 
must  promise  not  to  scold  us." 

"You  wall  not  scold  3rour  darlings,  will 
you  ?"  added  Blanche,  in  a  no  less  coax- 
ing voice. 

"  Granted  ! "  replied  Dagobert,  gravely; 
"particularly  as  I  should  not  well  know 
how  to  set  about  it — but  why  should  I 
scold  you  ?  " 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  87 

"Because  we  ought  perhaps  to  have 
told  you  sooner  what  we  are  going-  to  tell 
you." 

"Listen,  my  children,"  said  Dagobert 
sententiously,  after  reflecting  a  moment 
on  this  case  of  conscience  ;  "  one  of  two 
things  must  be.  Either  you  were  right, 
or  else  3rou  were  wrong  to  hide  this  from 
me  ;  if  you  were  right,  very  well ;  if  you 
were  wrong,  it  is  done  :  so  let's  say  no  more 
about  it.  Go  on — I  am  all  attention." 

Completely  reassured  by  this  luminous 
decision,  Rose  resumed,  while  she  ex- 
changed a  smile  with  her  sister :  "  Only 
think,  Dagobert ;  for  two  successive 
nights  we  have  had  a  visitor." 

"  A  visitor  !  "  cried  the  soldier,  draw- 
ing himself  up  suddenly  in  his  chair. 

"Yes,  a  charming  visitor — he  is  so 
very  fair." 

"Fair! — the  devil!"  cried  Dagobert, 
with  a  start. 

"  Yes,  fair — and  with  blue  eyes,"  added 
Blanche. 

"Blue  eyes — blue  devils  !"  and  Dago- 
bert again  bounded  on  his  seat. 

"  Yes,  blue  eyes — as  long  as  that," 
resumed  Rose,  placing  the  tip  of  one 
forefinger  about  the  middle  of  the  other. 

"  Zounds  !  they  might  belong  as  that," 
said  the  veteran,  indicating  the  whole 


88  THE    WANDERING  JEW. 

length  of  his  arm  from  the  elbow — 
"they  might  be  as  long  as  that,  and  it 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Fair, 
and  with  blue  eyes.  Pray  what  may  this 
mean,  young  ladies  ?  "  and  Dagobert  rose 
from  his  seat  with  a  severe  and  painfully 
unquiet  look. 

"  There  now,  Dagobert,  you  have  begun 
to  scold  us  already  !  " 

"Just  at  the  very  commencement," 
added  Blanche. 

"  Commencement ! — what,  is  there  to 
be  a  sequel  ?  a  finish  ?  " 

"A  finish?  we  hope  not,"  said  Rose, 
laughing  like  mad. 

"  All  we  ask  is,  that  it  should  last  for- 
ever," added  Blanche,  sharing  in  the 
hilarity  of  her  sister. 

Dagobert  looked  gravely  from  one  to 
the  other  of  the  two  maidens,  as  if  try- 
ing to  guess  this  enigma  ;  but  when  he 
saw  their  sweet,  innocent  faces  gracefully 
animated  by  a  frank,  ingenuous  laugh,  he 
reflected  that  they  would  not  be  so  gay  if 
they  had  any  serious  matter  for  self-re- 
proach, and  he  felt  pleased  at  seeing  them 
so  merry  in  the  midst  of  their  precarious 
position. 

"  Laugh  on,  my  children  !  "  he  said.  "  I 
like  so  much  to  see  you  laugh." 

Then,  thinking  that  was  not  precisely 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  89 

the  way  in  which  he  ought  to  treat  the 
singular  confession  of  the  young-  girls,  he 
added  in  a  gruff  voice  :  "  Yes,  I  like  to 
see  you  laugh — but  not  when  you  receive 
fair  visitors  with  blue  eyes,  young  ladies ! 
Come,  acknowledge  that  I'm  an  old  fool 
to  listen  to  such  nonsense — you  are  only 
making  game  of  me." 

"Nay,  what  we  tell  you  is  quite  true." 

"  You  know  we  never  tell  stories," 
added  Rose. 

"  They  are  right — they  never  fib,"  said 
the  soldier,  in  renewed  perplexity.  "  But 
how  the  devil  is  such  a  visit  possible  ?  I 
sleep  before  your  door — Spoilsport  sleeps 
under  your  window — and  all  the  blue  eyes 
and  fafr  locks  in  the  world  must  come  in 
by  one  of  those  two  ways — and,  if  they 
had  tried  it,  the  dog  and  I,  who  have 
both  of  us  quick  ears,  would  have  received 
their  visits  after  our  fashion.  But  come, 
children !  pray,  speak  to  the  purpose. 
Explain  yourselves  !  " 

The  two  sisters,  who  saw  by  the  ex- 
pression of  Dagobert's  countenance  that 
he  felt  really  uneasy,  determined  no 
longer  to  trifle  with  his  kindness.  They 
exchanged  a  glance,  and  Rose,  taking  in 
her  little  hand  the  coarse,  broad  palm  of 
the  veteran,  said  to  him  :  "  Come,  do  not 
plague  yourself  !  We  will  tell  you  all 


90  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

about  the  visit  of  our  friend  Gabriel." 

"  There  3'ou  are  again  I  He  has  a 
name,  then  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  he  has  a  name.  It  is 
Gabriel." 

"Is  it  not  a  pretty  name,  Dagobert  ? 
Oh,  you  will  see  and  love,  as  we  do,  our 
beautiful  Gabriel ! " 

"I'll  love  your  beautiful  Gabriel,  will 
I?  "  said  the  veteran,  shaking  his  head — 
"  Love  your  beautiful  Gabriel  ? — that's  as 
it  may  be.  I  must  first  know — "  Then, 
interrupting"  himself,  he  added  :  "It  is 
queer.  That  reminds  me  of  something." 

"  Of  what,  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  years  ago,  in  the  last  letter 
that  your  father,  on  his  return  from 
France,  brought  me  from  my  wife,  she 
told  me  that,  poor  as  she  was,  and  with 
our  little  growing  Agricola  on  her  hands, 
she  had  taken  in  a  poor  deserted  child, 
with  the  face  of  a  cherub,  and  the  name 
of  Gabriel — and  only  a  short  time  since  I 
heard  of  him  again." 

"  And  from  whom,  then  ?  " 

"  You  shall  know  that  by  and  by." 

"  Well,  then — since  you  have  a  Gabriel 
of  your  own — there  is  the  more  reason 
that  you  should  love  ours." 

"Yours  !"  but  who  is  yours  ?  I  am  on 
thorns  till  you  tell  me." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  91 

"  You  know,  Dagobert,"  resumed  Rose, 
"  that  Blanche  and  I  are  accustomed  to 
fall  asleep,  holding-  each  other  by  the 
hand." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  have  often  seen  you  in 
your  cradle.  I  was  never  tired  of  looking 
at  you  :  it  was  so  pretty." 

"  Well,  then — two  nights  ago,  we  had 
just  fallen  asleep,  when  we  beheld — " 

"  Oh,  it  was  in  a  dream  !  "  cried  Dago- 
bert.  "  Since  you  were  asleep,  it  was  in 
a  dream  !  " 

"  Certainly,  in  a  dream  —  how  else 
would  you  have  it  ?  " 

"Pray  let  my  sister  go  on  with  her 
tale  !  " 

"  Ah,  well  and  good  !  "  said  the  soldier 
with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction ;  "  well  and 
good  !  To  be  sure,  I  was  tranquil  enough 
in  any  case — because — but  still — I  like  it 
better  to  be  a  dream.  Continue,  my  little 
Rose." 

"  Once  asleep,  we  both  dreamed  the 
same  thing." 

"  What !  both  the  same  ?  " 

"  Yes,.  Dagobert ;  for  the  next  morning 
when  we  awoke  we  related  our  two  dreams 
to  each  other." 

"  And_they  were  exactly  alike." 

"  That's  odd  enough,  my  children ;  and 
what  was  this  dream  all  about  ?  " 


92  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"In  our  dream  Blanche  and  I  were 
seated  together,  when  we  saw  enter  a 
beautiful  angel,  with  a  long  white  robe, 
fair  locks,  blue  eyes,  and  so  handsome 
and  benign  a  countenance  that  we  clasped 
our  hands  as  if  to  pray  to  him.  Then  he 
told  us,  in  a  soft  voice,  that  he  was 
called  Gabriel ;  that  our  mother  had  sent 
him  to  be  our  guardian  angel,  and  that 
he  would  never  abandon  us." 

"And  then,"  added  Blanche,  "he  took 
us  each  by  the  hand,  and,  bending  his  fair 
face  over  us,  looked  at  us  for  a  long  time 
in  silence,  with  so  much  goodness — with 
so  much  goodness,  that  we  could  not  with- 
draw our  eyes  from  his." 

"Yes,"  resumed  Rose,  "and  his  look 
seemed,  by  turns,  to  attract  us,  or  to  go 
to  our  hearts.  At  length,  to  our  great 
sorrow,  Gabriel  quitted  us,  having  told 
us  that  we  should  see  him  again  the  fol- 
lowing night." 

"  And  did  he  make  his  appearance  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Judge  with  what  impa- 
tience we  waited  the  moment  of  sleep,  to 
see  if  our  friend  would  return,  and  visit 
us  in  our  slumbers." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Dagobert,  scratching 
his  forehead ;  "  this  reminds  me,  3roung 
ladies,  that  you  kept  on  rubbing  your  eyes 
last  evening,  and  pretending  to  be  half 


THE  WANDERING  JBW.  98 

asleep.  I  wager,  it  was  all  to  send  me 
away  the  sooner  and  to  get  to  your  dream 
as  fast  as  possible." 

"Yes,  Dagobert." 

"  The  reason  being,  you  could  not  say 
to  me,  as  you  would  to  Spoilsport  :  '  Lie 
down,  Dagobert ! '  Well — so  your  friend 
Gabriel  came  back  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  this  time  he  talked  to  us  a 
great  deal,  and  gave  us,  in  the  name  of 
our  mother,  such  touching,  such  noble 
counsels,  -that  the  next  day,  Rose  and  I 
spent  our  whole  time  in  recalling  every 
word  of  our  guardian  angel — and  his  face, 
and  his  look — " 

"  This  reminds  me  again,  young  ladies, 
that  you  were  whispering  all  along  the 
road  this  morning ;  and  that  when  I  spoke 
of  white,  you  answered  black." 

"  Yes,  Dagobert,  we  were  thinking  of 
Gabriel." 

"  And,  ever  since,  we  love  him  as  well 
as  he  loves  us." 

"  But  he  is  only  one  between  both  of 
you  ! " 

"Was  not  our  mother  one  between 
us?" 

"  And  you,  Dagobert — are  you  not  also 
one  for  us  both?  " 

"  True,  true  !    And  yet,  do  you  know, 


94  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

I  shall  finish  by  being-  jealous  of  that 
Gabriel !  " 

"  You  are  our  friend  by  day — he  is  our 
friend  by  night." 

"  Let's  understand  it  clearly.  If  you 
talk  of  him  all  day,  and  dream  of  him  all 
night,  what  will  there  remain  for  me  ?  " 

"  There  will  remain  for  you  your  two 
orphans,  whom  you  love  so  much,"  said 
Rose. 

"  And  who  have  only  you  left  upon 
earth,"  added  Blanche,  in  a  caressing 
tone. 

"  Humph  !  humph  !  that's  right,  coax 
the  old  man  over !  Nay,  believe  me,  my 
children,"  added  the  soldier  tenderly,  "  I 
am  quite  satisfied  with  my  lot.  I  can  af- 
ford to  let  you  have  your  Gabriel.  I  felt 
sure  that  Spoilsport  and  myself  could  take 
our  rest  in  quiet.  After  all,  there  is  noth- 
ing so  astonishing  in  what  you  tell  me ; 
your  first  dream  struck  your  fancy,  and 
you  talked  so  much  about  it  that  you  had 
a  second  ;  nor  should  I  be  surprised  if  you 
were  to  see  this  fine  fellow  a  third  time." 

"  Oh,  Dagobert  !  do  not  make  a  jest  of 
it  !  They  are  only  dreams,  but  we  think 
our  mother  sends  them  to  us.  Did  she  not 
tell  us  that  orphan  children  were  watched 
over  by  guardian  angels  ?  Well,  Gabriel 
is  our  guardian  angel ;  he  will  protect  us, 
and  he  will  protect  3rou  also." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  96 

"  Very  kind  of  him  to  think  of  me ;  but 
you  see,  my  dear  children,  for  the  matter 
of  defense,  I  prefer  the  dog  ;  he  is  less  fair 
than  your  angel,  but  he  has  better  teeth, 
and  that  is  more  to  be  depended  on." 

"  How  provoking  you  are,  Dagobert — 
always  jesting ! " 

"It  is  true  ;  you  can  laugh  at  every- 
thing." 

"  Yes,  I  am  astonishingly  gay ;  I  laugh 
with  my  teeth  shut,  in  the  style  of  old 
Jovial.     Come,  children,  don't  scold  me : 
I  know  I  am  wrong.     The  remembrance 
of  your  dear   mother  is  mixed  with  this 
dream,  and  you  do  well  to  speak  of  it  seri- 
ously.    Besides,"  added  he,  with  a  grave 
air,  "  dreams  will  sometimes  come  true. 
In  Spain,  two  of  the  Empress's  dragoons, 
comrades  of  mine,  dreamed,  the  night  be- 
fore their  death,  that  they  would  be  poi- 
soned by  the  monks — and  so  it  happened. 
If  you  continue  to  dream  of  this  fair  angel 
Gabriel,  it  is— it  is— why,  it  is,  because 
you  are  amused  by  it ;  and,  as  you  have 
none  too  many  pleasures  in  the  daytime, 
you  may  as  well  get  an  agreeable  sleep  at 
night.     But,  now,  my  children,  I  have  also 
much  to  tell  you;    it  will  concern  your 
mother  ;  promise  me  not  to  be  sad." 

"  Be  satisfied  !  when  we  think  of  her  we 
are  not  sad,  though  serious." 


96  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  That  is  well.  For  fear  of  grieving 
you,  I  have  always  delayed  the  moment 
of  telling-  what  your  poor  mother  would 
have  confided  to  you  as  soon  as  you  were 
no  longer  children.  But  she  died  before 
she  had  time  to  do  so,  and  that  which  I 
have  to  tell  broke  her  heart — as  it  nearly 
did  mine.  I  put  off  this  communication  as 
long-  as  I  could,  taking-  for  pretext  that  I 
would  say  nothing  till  we  came  to  the  field 
of  battle  where  your  father  was  made  pris- 
oner. That  gave  me  time ;  but  the  mo- 
ment is  now  come  ;  I  can  shuffle  it  off  ^10 
longer." 

"  We  listen,  Dagobert,"  responded  the 
two  maidens,  with  an  attentive  and  mel- 
ancholy air. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  during  which 
he  appeared  to  reflect,  the  veteran  thus 
addressed  the  young  girls  : 

"Your  father,  General  Simon,  was  the 
son  of  a  workman,  who  remained  a  work- 
man ;  for,  notwithstanding  all  that  the 
general  could  say  or  do,  the  oid  man  was 
obstinate  in  not  quitting  his  trade.  He 
had  a  heart  of  gold  and  a  head  of  iron, 
just  like  his  son.  You  may  suppose,  my 
children,  that  when  your  father,  who  had 
enlisted  as  a  private  soldier,  became  a 
general  and  a  count  of  the  Empire,  it  was 
not  without  toil  or  without  glory."  - 


In  vain  they  offer  wine,  with  drunken  jest; 
He  may  not  enter  for  a  moment's  rest. 

TUe  Wandering  Jew,  Vol.  1. 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  97 

"  A  count  of  the  Empire  ?  what  is  that, 
Dagobert  ?  " 

"Flummery — a  title  which  the  Emperor 
gave  over  and  above  the  promotion,  just 
for  the  sake  of  saying"  to  the  people,  whom 
he  loved  because  he  was  one  of  them  : 
'  Here,  children  !  you  wish  to  play  at 
nobility  !  you  shall  be  nobles.  You  wish 
to  play  at  royalty  !  you  shall  be  king's. 
Take  what  you  like — nothing  is  too  good 
for  you — enjoy  yourselves  ! ' 

''Kings!"  said  the  two  girls,  joining 
their  hands  in  admiration. 

"  Kings  of  the  first  water.  Oh,  he  was 
no  niggard  of  his  crowns,  our  Emperor  ! 
I  had  a  bed-fellow  of  mine,  a  brave  sol- 
dier, who  was  afterward  promoted  to  be 
king.  This  flattered  us ;  for,  if  it  was  not 
one,  it  was  the  other.  And  so,  at  this 
game,  your  father  became  count;  but, 
count  or  not,  he  was  one  of  the  best  and 
bravest  generals  of  the  army." 

"  He  was  handsome,  was  he  not,  Dago- 
bert  ? — mother  always  said  so." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  indeed  he  was — but  quite 
another  thing  from  your  fair  guardian 
angel.  Picture  to  yourself  a  fine,  dark 
man,  who  looked  splendid  in  his  full  uni- 
form, and  could  put  fire  into  the  soldiers' 
hearts.  With  him  to  lead,  we  would  have 
charged  up  into  heaven  itself — that  is,  if 
VOL.  1—5 


98  THE  WANDERING  JEW 

heaven  had  permitted  it,"  added  Dago- 
bert,  not  wishing1  to  wound  in  any  way 
the  religious  beliefs  of  the  orphans. 

"And  father  was  as  good  as  he  was 
brave,  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  Good>  my  children  ?  Yes,  I  should 
say  so  !  He  could  bend  a  horse-shoe  in 
his  hand  as  you  would  bend  a  card,  and 
the  day  he  was  taken  prisoner  he  had  cut 
down  the  Prussian  artillerymen  on  their 
very  cannon.  With  strength  and  courage 
like  that,  how  could  he  be  otherwise  than 
good  ?  It  is  then  about  nineteen  years 
ago,  not  far  from  this  place — on  the  spot 
I  showed  you  before  we  arrived  at  the 
village — that  the  general,  dangerously 
wounded,  fell  from  his  horse.  I  was  fol- 
lowing him  at  the  time,  and  ran  to  his 
assistance.  Five  minutes  after  we  were 
made  prisoners — and  by  whom,  think  you  ? 
— by  a  Frenchman." 

"  A  Frenchman  ?  " 

"  Yes,  an  emigrant  marquis,  a  colonel  in 
the  service  of  Russia,"  answered  Dago- 
bert, with  bitterness.  "And  so,  when  this 
marquis  advanced  toward  us,  and  said  to 
the  general :  '  Surrender,  sir,  to  a  coun- 
tryman ! ' — '  A  Frenchman,  who  fights 
against  France,'  replied  the  general,  -'is 
no  longer  my  countryman  ;  he  is  a  traitor, 
and  I'd  never  surrender  to  a  traitor ! ' 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  99 

And,  wounded  though  he  was,  he  dragged 
himself  up  to  a  Russian  grenadier,  and 
delivered  him  his  saber,  saying  :  '  I  sur- 
render to  you,  my  brave  fellow  ! '  The 
marquis  became  pale  with  rage  at  it." 

The  orphans  looked  at  each  other  with 
pride,  and  a  rich  crimson  mantled  their 
cheeks,  as  they  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  our 
brave  father  !  " 

"Ah,  those  children,"  said  Dagobert  as 
he  proudly  twirled  his  mustache.  "One 
sees  they  have  soldier's  blood  in  their 
veins!  Well,"  he  continued,  "we  were 
now  prisoners.  The  general's  last  horse 
had  been  killed  under  him  ;  and,  to  per- 
form the  journey,  he  mounted  Jovial, 
who  had  not  been  wounded  that  day. 
We  arrived  at  Warsaw,  and  there  it  was 
that  the  general  first  saw  your  mother. 
She  was  called  the  Pearl  of  Warsaw ; 
that  is  saying  everything.  Now  he,  who 
admired  all  that  is  good  and  beautiful, 
fell  in  love  with  her  almost  immediately; 
and  she  loved  him  in  return ;  but  her 
parents  had  promised  her  to  another — and 
that  other  was  the  same — " 

Dagobert  was  unable  to  proceed.  Rose 
uttered  a  piercing  cry  and  pointed  in  ter- 
ror to  the  window. 


100  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE     TRAVELER. 

UPON  the  cry  of  the  young-  girl  Dago- 
bert  rose  abruptly. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Rose  ?  " 

"  There — there  !"  she  said,  pointing  to 
the  window.  "I  thought  I  saw  a  hand 
move  the  pelisse." 

She  had  not  concluded  these  words  be- 
fore Dagobert  rushed  to  the  window  and 
opened  it,  tearing1  down  the  mantle  which 
had  been  suspended  from  the  fastening1. 

It  was  still  dark  nig-ht  and  the  wind 
was  blowing  hard.  The  soldier  listened, 
but  could  hear  nothing. 

Returning1  to  fetch  the  lamp  from  the 
table,  he  shaded  the  flame  with  his  hand 
and  strove  to  throw  the  light  outside. 
Still  he  saw  nothing.  Persuaded  that  a 
gust  of  wind  had  disturbed  and  shaken 
the  pelisse,  and  that  Rose  had  been  de- 
ceived by  her  own  fears,  he  again  shut 
the  window. 

"  Be  satisfied,  children  !  The  wind  is 
very  high  ;  it  is  that  which  lifted  the  cor- 
ner of  the  pelisse.'* 

"  Yet  methought  I  saw  plainly  the  fin- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  101 

gers  which  had  hold  of  it,"  said  Rose, 
still  trembling1. 

"I  was  looking  at  Dagobert,"  said 
Blanche,  "  and  I  saw  nothing." 

"  There  was  nothing  to  see,  my  chil- 
dren :  the  thing  is  clear  enough.  Tue 
window  is  at  least  eight  feet  above  the 
ground  ;  none  but  a  giant  could  reach  it 
without  a  ladder.  Now,  had  any  one  used 
a  ladder,  there  would  not  have  been  time 
to  remove  it ;  for,  as  soon  as  Rose  cried 
out,  I  ran  to  the  window,  and,  when  I 
held  out  the  light,  I  could  see  nothing." 

"  I  must  have  been  deceived,"  said  Rose. 

"  You  may  be  sure,  sister,  it  was  only 
the  wind,"  added  Blanche. 

"  Then  I  beg  pardon  for  having  dis- 
turbed you,  my  good  Dagobert." 

"  Never  mind  !  "  replied  the  soldier  mus- 
ingly ;  "  I  am  only  sorry  that  Spoilsport  is 
not  come  back.  He  would  have  watched 
the  window,  and  that  would  have  quite 
tranquilized  you.  But  he  no  doubt  scent- 
ed the  stable  of  his  comrade,  Jovial,  and 
will  have  called  in  to  bid  him  good-night 
on  the  road.  I  have  half  a  mind  to  go 
and  fetch  him." 

"  Oh,  no,  Dagobert !  do  not  leave  us 
alone,"  cried  the  maidens  ;  "  we  are  too 
much  afraid." 

"  Well,  the  dog  is  not  likely  to  remain 

LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CAlirPRNIA 


103  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

away  much  longer,  and  1  am  sure  we 
shall  soon  hear  him  scratching-  at  the 
door,  so  we  will  continue  our  story,"  said 
Dagobert,  as  he  again  seated  himself  near 
the  head  of  the  bed,  but  this  time  with 
his  face  toward  the  window. 

"Now  the  general  was  prisoner  at 
Warsaw,"  continued  he,  "  and  in  love 
with  your  mother,  whom  they  wished  to 
marry  to  another.  In  1814,  we  learned 
the  finish  of  the  war,  the  banishment  of 
the  Emperor  to  the  Isle  of  Elba,  and  the 
return  of  the  Bourbons.  In  concert  with 
the  Prussians  and  Russians,  who  had 
brought  them  back,  they  had  exiled 
the  Emperor.  Learning  all  this,  your 
mother  said  to  the  general :  '  The  war 
is  finished  ;  you  are  free,  but  your  Em- 
peror is  in  trouble.  You  owe  everything 
to  him  ;  go  and  join  him  in  his  misfort- 
unes. I  know  not  when  we  shall  meet 
again,  but  I  will-  never  marry  any  one 
but  you.  I  am  yours  till  death  ! ' — Be- 
fore he  set  out  the  general  called  me  to 
him,  and  said  :  '  Dagobert,  remain  here ; 
Mademoiselle  Eva  may  have  need  of  you 
to  fly  from  her  family,  if  they  should 
press  too  hard  upon  her ;  our  corre- 
spondence will  have  to  pass  through 
your  hands;  at  Paris  I  shall  see  your 


THE  WANRKKINO  JEW  10$ 

wife  and  son ;  I  will  comfort  them,  and 
tell  them  you  are  my  friend. ' ' 

"Always  the  same,"  said  Rose,  with 
emotion,  as  she  looked  affectionately  at 
Dagobert. 

"  As  faithful  to  the  father  and  mother 
as  to  their  children,"  added  Blanche. 

"  To  love  one  was  to  love  them  all," 
replied  the  soldier.  "  Well,  the  general 
joined  the  Emperor  at  Elba;  I  remained 
at  Warsaw,  concealed  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  your  mother's  house ;  I  received 
the  letters,  and  conveyed  them  to  her 
clandestinely.  In  one  of  those  letters — I 
feel  proud  to  tell  you  of  it,  my  children 
— the  general  informed  me  that  the 
Emperor  himself  had  remembered  me." 

"  What,  did  he  know  you  ?  " 

"A  little,  I  flatter  myself—'  Oh  !  Dago- 
bert ! '  said  he  to  your  father,  who  was 
talking  to  him  about  me ;  '  a  horse 
grenadier  of  my  old  guard — a  soldier  of 
Egypt  and  Italy,  battered  with  wounds — 
an  old  dare-devil,  whom  I  decorated  with 
my  own  hand  at  Wagram — I  have  not 
forgotten  him  ! ' — I  vow,  children,  when 
your  mother  read  that  to  me,  I  cried 
like  a  fool." 

"  The  Emperor — what  a  fine  golden 
face  he  has  on  the  silver  cross  with 
the  red  ribbon  that  you  would  some- 


104  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

times  show  us  when  we  behaved  well !" 
"That  cross — given  by  him — is  my 
relic.  It  is  there  in  my  knapsack,  with 
whatever  we  have  of  value — our  little 
purse  and  papers.  But,  to  return  to 
your  mother ;  it  was  a  great  consola- 
tion to  her,  when  I  took  her  letters  from 
the  general,  or  talked  with  her  about 
him  —  for  she  suffered  much  —  oh,  so 
much  !  In  vain  her  parents  tormented 
and  persecuted  her ;  she  always  an- 
swered :  '  I  will  never  marry  any  one 
but  General  Simon.'  A  spirited  woman, 
I  can  tell  you — resigned,  but  wonderfully 
courageous.  One  day  she  received  a  let- 
ter from  the  general ;  he  had  left  the  Isle 
of  Elba  with  the  Emperor ;  the  war  had 
again  broken  out,  a  short  campaign,  but 
as  fierce  as  ever,  and  heightened  by  sol- 
diers' devotion.  In  that  campaign  of 
France,  my  children,  especially  at  Mont- 
mirail,  your  father  fought  like  a  lion, 
and  his  division  followed  his  example. 
It  was  no  longer  valor — it  was  frenz}7. 
He  told  me  that,  in  Champagne,  the 
peasants  killed  so  many  of  those  Prus- 
sians that  their  fields  were  manured  with 
them  for  years.  Men,  women,  children, 
all  rushed  upon  them.  Pitchforks,  stones, 
mattocks,  all  served  for  the  slaughter. 
It  was  a  true  wolf-hunt  I " 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  105 

The  veins  swelled  on  the  soldier's  fore- 
head, and  his  cheeks  flushed  as  he  spoke, 
for  this  popular  heroism  recalled  to  his 
memory  the  sublime  enthusiasm  of  the 
wars  of  the  republic — those  armed  risings 
of  a  whole  people,  from  which  dated  the 
first  steps  of  his  military  career,  as  the 
triumphs  of  the  Empire  were  the  last 
days  of  his  service. 

The  orphans,  too,  daughters  of  a  sol- 
dier and  a  brave  woman,  did  not  shrink 
from  the  rough  energy  of  these  words, 
but  felt  their  cheeks  glow  and  their 
hearts  beat  tumultuously. 

"  How  happy  we  are  to  be  the  children 
of  so  brave  a  father  !  "  cried  Blanche. 

"It  is  a  happiness  and  an  honor,  too, 
my  children — for  the  evening  of  the  battle 
of  Montmirail,  the  Emperor,  to  the  joy 
of  the  whole  army,  made  your  father 
Duke  of  Ligny  and  Marshal  of  France." 

"  Marshal  of  France  !  "  said  Rose  in 
astonishment,  without  understanding  the 
exact  meaning  of  the  words. 

"  Duke  of  Ligny !  "  added  Blanche, 
with  equal  surprise. 

"  Yes  ;  Peter  Simon,  the  son  of  a  work- 
man, became  duke  and  marshal — there  is 
nothing  higher  except  a  king  !  "  resumed 
Dagobert,  proudly.  "  That's  how  the 
Emperor  treated  the  sons  of  the  people, 


106  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and,  therefore,  the  people  were  devoted 
to  him.  It  was  all  very  fine  to  tell  them  : 
*  Your  Emperor  makes  you  food  for  can- 
non.' 'Stuff!'  replied  the  people,  who 
are  no  fools,  'another  would  make  us 
food  for  misery.  We  prefer  the  cannon, 
with  the  chance  of  becoming-  captain  or 
colonel,  marshal,  king1 — or  invalid ;  that's 
better  than  to  perish  with  hung-er,  cold 
and  age,  on  straw  in  a  g-arret,  after  toil- 
ing forty  years  for  others.' ' 

"Even  in  France — even  in  Paris,  that 
beautiful  city — do  you  mean  to  say  there 
are  poor  people  who  die  of  hunger  and 
misery,  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  Even  in  Paris  ?  Yes,  my  children ; 
therefore,  I  come  back  to  .the  point — the 
cannon  is  better.  With  it,  one  has  the 
chance  of  becoming1,  like  your  father, 
duke  and  marshal :  when  I  say  duke  and 
marshal,  I  am  partly  right  and  partly 
wrong,  for  the  title  and  the  rank  were 
not  recognized  in  the  end  ;  because,  after 
Montmirail,  came  a  day  of  gloom,  a  day 
of  great  mourning,  when,  as  the  g-eneral 
has  told  me,  old  soldiers  like  myself 
wept — yes,  wept ! — on  the  evening-  of  a 
battle.  That  day,  my  children,  was 
Waterloo  ! " 

There  was  in  these  simple  words  of 
Dag-obert  an  expression  of  such  deep 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  1Q7 

sorrow  that  it  thrilled  the  hearts  of 
the  orphans. 

"Alas!"  resumed  the  soldier,  with  a 
sigh,  "  there  are  days  which  seem  to 
have  a  curse  on  them.  That  same  day, 
at  Waterloo,  the  general  fell,  covered 
with  wounds,  at  the  head  of  a  division 
of  the  Guards.  When  he  was  nearly 
cured,  which  was  not  for  a  long  time 
after,  he  solicited  permission  to  go  to 
St.  Helena — another  island  at  the  far 
end  of  the  world,  to  which  the  English 
had  carried  the  Emperor,  to  torture  him 
at  their  leisure  ;  for  if  he  was  very  fortu- 
nate in  the  first  instance,  he  had  to  go 
through  a  deal  of  hard  rubs  at  last,  my 
poor  children." 

"  If  you  talk  in  that  way,  you  will 
make  us  cry,  Dagobert." 

"  There  is  cause  enough  for  it — the 
Emperor  suffered  so  much !  He  bled 
cruelly  at  the  heart,  believe  me.  Unfort- 
unately, the  general  was  not  with  him 
at  St.  Helena ;  he  would  have  been  one 
more  to  console  him  ;  but  they  would  not 
allow  him  to  go.  Then,  exasperated,  like 
so  many  others,  against  the  Bourbons, 
the  general  engaged  in  a  conspiracy  to 
recall  the  son  of  the  Emperor.  He  relied 
especially  on  one  regiment,  nearly  all 
composed  of  his  old  soldiers,  and  he  went 


108  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

down  to  a  place  in  Picardy,  where  they 
were  then  in  garrison  ;  but  the  conspiracy 
had  already  been  divulged.  Arrested 
the  moment  of  his  arrival,  the  general 
was  taken  before  the  colonel  of  the  regi- 
ment. And  this  colonel,"  said  the  sol- 
dier, after  a  brief  pause,  "  who  do  you 
think  it  was  again  ?  Bah  !  it  would  be 
too  long  to  tell  you  all,  and  would  only 
make  you  more  sad ;  but  it  was  a  man 
whom  your  father  had  many  reasons  to 
hate.  When  he  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  him,  he  said :  '  If  you  are  not 
a  coward,  you  will  give  me  one  hour's 
liberty,  and  we  will  fight  to  the  death ;  I 
hate  you  for  this,  I  despise  you  for  that ' 
— and  so  on.  The  colonel  accepted  the 
challenge,  and  gave  your  father  his  lib- 
erty till  the  morrow.  The  duel  was  a 
desperate  one  ;  the  colonel  was  left  for 
dead  on  the  spot." 

"  Merciful  heaven  !  " 

"  The  general  was  yet  wiping  his 
sword,  when  a  faithful  friend  came  to 
him,  and  told  him  he  had  only  just  time 
to  save  himself.  In  fact,  he  happily  suc- 
ceeded in  leaving  France — yes,  happily — 
for,  a  fortnight  after,  he  was  condemned 
to  death  as  a  conspirator." 

"  What  misfortunes,  good  heaven  !  " 

"  There  was  some   luck,   however,   in 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  JQ9 

the  midst  of  his  troubles.  Your  mother 
had  kept  her  promise  bravely,  and  was 
still  waiting-  for  him.  She  had  written 
to  him :  '  The  Emperor  first,  and  me 
next  ! '  Not  able  to  do  anything-  more 
for  the  Emperor,  nor  even  for  his  son,  the 
g-eneral,  banished  from  France,  set  out 
for  Warsaw.  Your  mother  had  lost  her 
parents,  and  was  now  free ;  they  were 
married — and  I  am  one  of  the  witnesses 
to  the  marriag-e." 

"  You  are  right,  Dag-obert ;  that  was 
great  happiness  in  the  midst  of  great 
misfortunes  !  "  •». 

"  Yes,  they  were  very  happy ;  but, 
as  it  happens  with  all  g-ood  hearts,  the 
happier  they  were  themselves,  the  more 
they  felt  for  the  sorrows  of  others — 
and  there  was  quite  enough  to  grieve 
them  at  Warsaw.  The  Russians  had 
ag-ain  beg-un  to  treat  the  Poles  as  their 
slaves ;  your  brave  mother,  though  of 
French  origin,  was  a  Pole  in  heart  and 
soul ;  she  spoke  out  boldly  what  others 
did  not  dare  speak  in  a  whisper,  and  all 
the  unfortunate  called  her  their  protect- 
ing- angel.  That  was  enough  to  excite 
the  suspicions  of  the  Russian  governor. 
One  day,  a  friend  of  the  general's,  form- 
erly a  colonel  in  the  lancers,  a  brave  and 
worthy  man,  was  condemned  to  be  exiled 


110  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

to  Siberia,  for  a  military  plot  against  the 
Russians.  He  took  refuge  in  your  father's 
house,  and  lay  hid  there  ;  but  his  retreat 
was  discovered.  During  the  next  night, 
a  party  of  Cossacks,  commanded  by  an 
officer  and  followed  by  a  traveling-car- 
riage, arrive  at  our  door  ;  they  rouse-  the 
general  from  his  sleep,  and  take  him 
away  with  them." 

"  Oh,  heaven  !  what  did  they  mean  to 
do  with  him  ?  " 

"  Conduct  him  out  of  the  Russian 
dominions,  with  a  charge  never  to  return, 
on  pain  of  perpetual  imprisonment.  His 
last  words  were  :  *  Dagobert,  I  intrust  to 
thee  my  wife  and  child  !  ' — for  it  wanted 
yet  some  months  of  the  time  when  you 
were  to  be  born.  Well,  notwithstanding 
that,  they  exiled  your  mother  to  Siberia  ; 
it  was  an  opportunity  to  get  rid  of  her  ; 
she  did  too  much  good  at  Warsaw,  and 
they  feared  her  accordingly.  Not  content 
with  banishing  her,  they  confiscated  all 
her  property ;  the  only  favor  she  could 
obtain  was,  that  I  should  accompany 
her,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  Jovial,  whom 
the  general  had  given  to  me,  she  would 
have  had  to  make  the  journey  on  foot. 
It  was  thus,  with  her  on  horseback,  and 
I  leading  her  as  I  lead  you,  my  children, 
that  we  arrived  at  the  poverty-stricken 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  HI 

village,  where,  three  months  after,  you 
poor  little  things  were  born  !  " 

"  And  our  father  ?  " 

"  It  was  impossible  for  him  to  return 
to  Russia  ;  impossible  for  your  mother  to 
think  of  flight,  with  two  children;  im- 
possible for  the  general  to  write  to  her, 
as  he  knew  not  where  she  was." 

"So,  since  that  time,  you  have  had  no 
news  of  him?  " 

"Yes,  my  children  —  once  we  had 
news." 

"And  by  whom?" 

After  a  moment's  silence,  Dagobert 
resumed,  with  a  singular  expression  of 
countenance  :  "  By  whom  ? — by  one  who 
is  not  like  other  men.  Yes — that  you 
may  understand  me  better,  I  will  relate 
to  you  an  extraordinary  adventure,  which 
happened  to  your  father  during  his  last 
French  campaign.  He  had  been  ordered 
by  the  Emperor  to  carry  a  battery  which 
was  playing  heavily  on  our  army ;  after 
several  unsuccessful  efforts,  the  general 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  regiment  of 
cuirassiers,  and  charged  the  battery,  in- 
tending, as  was  his  custom,  to  cut  down 
the  men  at  their  guns.  He  was  on  horse- 
back, just  before  the  mouth  of  a  cannon, 
where  all  the  artillerymen  had  been  either 
killed  or  wounded,  when  one  of  them  still 


113  THE  WANDKKING  JEW. 

found  strength  to  raise  himself  upon  one 
knee,  and  to  apply  the  lighted  match  to 
the  touch-hole  —  and  that  when  your 
father  was  about  ten  paces  in  front  of  the 
loaded  piece." 

"  Oh  .'  what  a  peril  for  our  father !  " 

"Never,  he  told  me,  had  he  run  such 
imminent  danger — for  he  saw  the  artil- 
leryman apply  the  match,  and  the  gun 
go  off — hut,  at  the  very  nick,  a  man  of 
tall  stature,  dressed  as  a  peasant,  and 
whom  he  had  not  before  remarked,  threw 
himself  in  front  of  the  cannon." 

"  Unfortunate  creature  !  what  a  horri- 
ble death !  " 

"Yes,"  said  Dagobert,  thoughtfully; 
"  it  should  have  been  so.  He  ought  by 
rights  to  have  been  blown  into  a  thou- 
sand pieces.  But  no  —  nothing  of  the 
kind  !  " 

"  What  do  you  tell  us  ?  " 

"What  the  general  told  me.  'At  the 
moment  when  the  gun  went  off,'  as  he 
often  repeated  to  me,  '  I  shut  my  eyes  by 
an  involuntarj'  movement,  that  I  might 
not  see  the  mutilated  body  of  the  poor 
wretch  who  had  sacrificed  himself  in  my 
place.  When  I  again  opened  them,  the 
first  thing  I  saw  in  the  midst  of  the 
smoke  was  the  tall  figure  of  this  man, 
standing  erect  and  calm  on  the  same 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  Hg 

spot,  and  casting1  a  sad,  mild  look  on  the 
artilleryman,  who,  with  one  knee  on  the 
ground,  and  his  body  thrown  backward, 
gazed  on  him  with  as  much  terror  as  if 
he  had  been  the  devil  in  person.  After- 
ward, in  the  tumult  of  the  battle,  I  lost 
sight  of  this  man,'  added  your  father." 

"  Bless  me,  Dagobert !  how  can  this  be 
possible  ?  " 

"That  is  just  what  I  said  to  the  gen- 
eral. He  answered  me,  that  he  ha^d 
never  been  able  to  explain  to  himself 
this  event,  which  seemed  as  incredible  as 
it  was  true.  Moreover,  your  father  must 
have  been  greatly  struck  with  the  coun- 
tenance of  this  man,  who  appeared,  he 
said,  about  thirty  years  of  age — for  he 
remarked  that  his  extremely  black  eye- 
brows  were  joined  together,  and  formed, 
as  it  were,  one  line  from  temple  to  tem- 
ple, so  that  he  seemed  to  have  a  black 
streak  across  his  forehead.  Remember 
this,  my  children ;  you  will  soon  see  why." 

"  Oh,  Dagobert  !  we  shall  not  forget 
it,"  said  the  orphans,  becoming-  more  and 
more  astonished  as  he  proceeded. 

"Is  it  not  strang-e — this  man  with  a 
black  seam  on  his  forehead  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  shall  hear.  The  general 
had,  as  I  told  you,  been  left  for  dead  at 
Waterloo.  During  the  night,  which  he 


114  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

passed  on  the  field  of  battle,  in  a  S9rt  of 
delirium  brought  on  by  the  fever  of  his 
wounds,  he  saw,  or  fancied  he  saw,  this 
same  man  bending  over  him,  with  a  look 
of  great  mildness  and  deep  melancholy, 
stanching-  his  wounds,  and  using  every 
effort  to  revive  him.  But  as  your  father, 
whose  senses  were  still  wandering,  re- 
pulsed his  kindness — saying,  that  after 
such  a  defeat,  it  only  remained  to  die — it 
appeared  as  if  this  man  replied  to  him  : 
*  Y  ou  must  live  for  Eva  ! ' — meaning  your 
mother,  whom  the  general  had  left  at 
Warsaw,  to  join  the  Emperor,  and  make 
this  campaign  of  France." 

"  How  strange,  Dagobert  !  And  since 
then,  did  our  father  never  see  this 
man  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  saw  him — for  it  is  he  who 
brought  news  of  the  general  to  your  poor 
mother." 

"  When  was  that  ?  We  never  heard  of 
it." 

"  You  remember  that,  on  the  day  your 
mother  died,  you  went  to  the  pine-forest 
with  old  Fedora  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Rose,  mournfully  ; 
"  to  fetch  some  heath,  of  which  our  mo- 
ther was  so  fond." 

"  Poor  mother  !  "  added  Blanche  ;  "  she 
appeared  so  well  that  morning  that  we 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  H5 

could  not  dream  of  the  calamity  which 
awaited  us  before  night." 

"  True,  my  children  ;  I  sung-  and  worked 
that  morning-  in  the  garden,  expecting,  no 
more  than  you  did,  what  was  to  happen. 
Well,  as  I  was  singing  at  my  work,  on  a 
sudden  I  heard  a  voice  ask  me  in  French : 
'  Is  this  the  village  of  Milosk  ?  ' — I  turned 
round,  and  saw  before  me  a  stranger ;  I 
looked  at  him  attentively,  and,  instead  of 
replying,  fell  back  two  steps,  quite  stupe- 
fied." 

"  Ah,  why  ?  " 

"  He  was  of  tall  stature,  very  pale, 
with  a  high  and  open  forehead  ;  but  his 
eyebrows  met,  and  seemed  to  form  one 
black  streak  across  it." 

"  Then  it  was  the  same  man  who  had 
twice  been  with  our  father  in  battle  ?  " 

"  Yes — it  was  he." 

"But,  Dagobert,"  said  Rose,  thought- 
fully, "is  it  not  a  long  time  since  these 
battles  ?  " 

"  About  sixteen  years." 

"  And  of  what  age  was  this  stranger?  " 

"  Hardly  more  than  thirty." 

"  Then  how  can  it  be  the  same  man, 
who,  sixteen  years  before,  had  been  with 
our  father  in  the  wars  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Dagobert,  after 
a  moment's  silence,  and  shrugging  his 


116  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

shoulders  :  "  I  may  have  been  deceived 
hy  a  chance  likeness — and  yet — " 

"  Oh,  if  it  were  the  same,  he  could  not 
have  got  older  all  that  while." 

"  But  did  you  ask  him  if  he  had  not 
formerly  relieved  our  father  ?  " 

"  At  first  I  was  so  surprised  that  I  did 
not  think  of  it ;  and  afterward,  he  re- 
mained so  short  a  time  that  I  had  no 
opportunity.  Well,  he  asked  me  for  the 
village  of  Milosk.  '  You  are  there,  sir/ 
said  I,  '  but  how  do  you  know  that  I  am 
a  Frenchman  ?  '  'I  heard  you  singing  as 
I  passed,'  replied  he  ;  '  could  you  tell  me 
the  house  of  Madame  Simon,  the  gen- 
eral's wife  ?  '  '  She  lives  here,  sir.'  Then, 
looking  at  me  for  some  seconds  in  silence, 
he  took  me  by  the  hand  and  said  :  '  You 
are  the  friend  of  General  Simon — his  best 
friend  ! '  Judge  of  my  astonishment,  as 
I  answered  :  '  But,  sir,  how  do  you 
know  ?  '  '  He  has  often  spoken  of  you 
with  gratitude.'  'You  have  seen  the 
general  then  ?  '  '  Yes,  some  time  ago,  in 
India.  I  am  also  his  friend  :  I  bring  news 
of  him  to  his  wife,  whom  I  knew  to  be 
exiled  in  Siberia.  At  Tobolsk,  whence  I 
come,  I  learned  that  she  inhabits  this 
village.  Conduct  me  to  her  ! ' 

"The  good  traveler — I  love  him  al- 
ready," said  Rose. 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  H7 

"Yes,  being-  father's  friend." 

"I  begged  him  to  wait  an  instant 
while  I  went  to  inform  your  mother,  so 
that  the  surprise  might  not  do  her  harm  : 
five  minutes  after,  he  was  beside  her." 

"  And  what  kind  of  man  was  this  trav- 
eler, Dagobert  ?  " 

"  He  was  very  tall ;  he  wore  a  dark 
pelisse  and  a  fur  cap,  and  had  long  black 
hair." 

"  Was  he  handsome  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  children — very  handsome  ; 
but  with  so  mild  and  melancholy  an  air 
that  it  pained  my  heart  to  see  him." 

"  Poor  man  !  he  had  doubtless  known 
some  great  sorrow." 

"  Your  mother  had  been  closeted  with 
him  for  some  minutes,  when  she  called  me 
to  her  and  said  that  she  had  just  received 
good  news  of  the  general.  She  was  in 
tears,  and  had  before  her  a  large  packet 
of  papers ;  it  was  a  kind  of  journal, 
which  your  father  had  written  every 
evening  to  console  himself  ;  not  being 
able  to  speak  to  her,  he  told  the  paper  all 
that  he  would  have  told  her." 

"  Oh  !  where  are  these  papers,  Dago- 
bert ?  " 

"  There,  in  the  knapsack,  with  my  cross 
and  our  purse.  One  day  I  will  give  them 
to  you  ;  but  I  have  picked  out  a  few  leaves 


118  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

here  and  there  for  you  to  read  presently. 
You  will  see  why." 

"  Had  our  father  been  long1  in  India  ?  " 
"  I  gathered  from  the  few  words  which 
your  mother  said,  that  the  general  had 
gone  to  that  country,  after  fighting  for 
the  Greeks  against  the  Turks — for  he  al- 
ways liked  to  side  with  the  weak  against 
the  strong.  In  India  he  made  fierce  war 
against  the  English  :  they  had  murdered 
our  prisoners  in  pontoons,  and  tortured 
the  Emperor  at  St.  Helena,  and  the  war 
was  a  doubly  good  one,  for  in  harming 
them  he  served  a  just  cause." 

"  What  cause  did  he  serve  then  ?  " 
"That  of  one  of  the  poor  native  princes, 
whose  territories  the  English  lay  waste, 
till  the  day  when  they  can  take  possession 
of  them  against  law  and  right.  You  see, 
my  children,  it  was  once  more  the  weak 
against  the  strong,  and  your  father  did 
not  miss  this  opportunity.  In  a  few 
months  he  had  so  well  trained  and  disci- 
plined the  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  men 
of  the  prince,  that,  in  two  encounters, 
they  cut  to  pieces  the  English  sent  against 
them,  and  who,  no  doubt,  had  in  their 
reckoning  left  out  your  brave  father,  my 
children.  But  come,  you  shall  read  some 
pages  of  his  journal,  which  will  tell  you 
more  and  better  than  I  can.  Moreover, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  HJ 

you  will  find  in  them  a  name  which  you 
ought  always  to  remember ;  that's  why  I 
chose  this  passage." 

"  Oh,  what  happiness  !  To  read  the 
pages  written  by  our  father  is  almost  to 
hear  him  speak,"  said  Rose. 

"It  is  as  if  he  were  close  beside  us," 
added  Blanche. 

And  the  girls  stretched  out  their  hands 
with  eagerness,  to  catch  hold  of  the  leaves 
that  Dagobert  J'-id  taken  from  his  pocket. 
Then,  by  a  simultaneous  movement,  full 
of  touching  grace,  they  pressed  the  writ- 
ing of  their  father  in  silence  to  their 
lips. 

"  You  will  see  also,  my  children,  at  the 
end  of  this  letter,  why  I  was  surprised 
that  your  guardian  angel,  as  you  say, 
should  be  called  Gabriel.  Read,  read," 
added  the  soldier,  observing  the  puzzled 
air  of  the  orphans.  "  Only  I  ought  to 
tell  you,  that,  when  he  wrote  this,  the 
general  had  not  yet  fallen  in  with  the 
traveler  who  brought  the  papers." 

Rose,  sitting  up  in  her  bed,  took  the 
leaves,  and  began  to  read  in  a  soft  trem- 
bling voice  ;  Blanche,  with  her  head  rest- 
ing on  her  sister's  shoulder,  followed 
attentively  every  word.  One  could  even 
see,  by  the  slight  motion  of  her  lips,  that 
she  too  was  reading,  but  only  to  herself. 


130  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  GENERAL  SIMON'S  DIARY. 

"  '  Bivouac  on  the  Mountains  of  Ava, 
"  '  February  the  20th,  1830. 

"  'EACH  time  I  add  some  pages  to  this 
journal,  written  now  in  the  heart  of  India, 
where  the  fortune  of  my  wandering1  and 
proscribed  existence  has  thrown  me — a 
journal  which,  alas  !  my  beloved  Eva,  you 
may  never  read — I  experience  a  sweet, 
yet  painful  emotion ;  for,  although  to 
converse  thus  with  you  is  a  consolation,  it 
brings  back  the  bitter  thought  that  I  am 
unable  to  see  or  speak  to  you. 

"  'Still,  if  these  pages  should  ever  meet 
your  eyes,  your  generous  heart  will  throb 
at  the  name  of  the  intrepid  being  to  whom 
I  am  this  day  indebted  for  my  life,  and  to 
whom  I  may  thus  perhaps  owe  the  hap- 
piness of  seeing  3^ou  again — you  and  my 
child — for  of  course  our  child  lives.  Yes, 
it  must  be — for  else,  poor  wife,  what  an 
existence  would  be  yours  amid  the  horrors 
of  exile  !  Dear  sotil !  he  must  now  be 
fourteen.  Whom  does  he  resemble  ?  Is 
he  like  .you  ?  Has  he  your  large  and 
beautiful  blue  eyes?  Madman  that  I 
am  !  how  many  times,  in  this  long  day- 


On,  through  morass  and  slough,  he  strives  to  fly 
From  hateful  memories  of  days  gone  by. 

—The  Wandering  Jew,  Vol.  1. 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  121 

book,  have  I  already  asked  the  same  idle 
question,  to  which  you  can  return  no  an- 
swer !  How  many  times  shall  I  continue 
to  ask  it  ?  But  you  will  teach  our  child 
to  speak  and  love  the  somewhat  savage 
name  of  Djalma.' ' 

"  Djalma  !  "  said  Rose,  as  with  moist 
eyes  she  left  off  reading1. 

"  Djalma  ! "  repeated  Blanche,  who 
shared  the  emotion  of  her  sister.  "  Oh, 
we  shall  never  forget  that  name." 

"And  you  will  do  well,  my  children; 
for  it  seems  to  be  the  name  of  a  famous 
soldier,  though  a  very  young  one.  But 
£•0  on,  my  little  Rose  ! " 

" '  I  have  told  you  in  the  preceding 
pages,  my  dear  Eva,  of  the  two  glorious 
days  we  had  this  month.  The  troops  of 
my  old  friend  the  prince,  which  daily 
make  fresh  advances  in  European  disci- 
pline, have  performed  wonders.  We 
have  beaten  the  English,  and  obliged 
them  to  abandon  a  portion  of  this  un- 
happy country,  which  they  had  invaded 
in  contempt  of  all  the  rights  of  justice, 
and  which  thej7  continue  to  ravage  with- 
out mercy ;  for,  in  these  parts,  warfare 
is  another  name  for  treachery,  pillage, 
and  massacre.  This  morning,  after  a 
toilsome  march  through  a  rocky  and 
mountainous  district,  we  received  infor- 
VOL.  1—6 


132  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

mation  from  our  scouts  that  the  enemy 
had  been  re-enforced,  and  was  preparing 
.to  act  on  the  offensive ;  and,  as  we  were 
separated  from  them  by  a  distance  of  a 
few  leagues  only,  an  engagement  became 
inevitable.  My  old  friend  the  prince,  the 
father  of  my  deliverer,  was  impatient  to 
march  to  the  attack.  The  action  began 
about  three  o'clock ;  it  was  very  bloody 
and  furious.  Seeing  that  our  men  wav- 
ered for  a  moment,  for  they  were  inferior 
in  number,  and  the  English  re-enforce- 
ments consisted  of  fresh  troops,  I  charged 
at  the  head  of  our  weak  reserve  of  cav- 
alry. The  old  prince  was  in  the  center, 
fighting,  j_s  he  always  fights,  intrepidly  ; 
his  son,  Djalma,  scarcely  eighteen,  as 
brave  as  his  father,  did  not  leave  my  side. 
In  the  hottest  part  of  the  engagement, 
my  horse  was  killed  under  me,  and  roll- 
ing over  into  a  ravine,  along  the  edge  of 
which  I  was*  riding,  I  found  myself  so 
awkwardly  entangled  beneath  him  that 
for  an  instant  I  thought  my  thigh  was 
broken.'" 

"Poor  father  !  "  said  BL.nchc. 

"  This  time,  happily,  nothing  more  dan- 
gerous ensued — thanks  to  J)jahna  !  You 
see,  Dagobert,"  added  Rose,  "  that  I 
remember  the  name."  And  she  con- 
tinued to  read  : 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  128 

" '  The  English  thought — and  a  very 
flattering  opinion  it  was — that,  if  they 
could  kill  me,  they  would  make  short 
work  of  the  prince's  army.  So  a  Sepoy 
officer,  with  five  or  six  irregulars — cow- 
ardly, ferocious  plunderers — seeing  me 
roll  down  the  ravine,  threw  themselves 
into  it  to  dispatch  me.  Surrounded  by 
fire  and  smoke,  and  carried  away  by  their 
ardor,  our  mountaineers  had  not  seen  me 
fall ;  but  Djalma  never  left  me.  He 
leaped  into  the  ravine  to  my  .assistance, 
and  his  cool  intrepidity  saved  my  life. 
He  had  held  the  fire  of  his  double-barreled 
carbine  ;  with  one  load  he  killed  the  of- 
ficer on  the  spot ;  with  the  other  he  broke 
the  arm  of  an  irregular,  who  had  already 
pierced  my  left  hand  with  his  bayonet. 
But  do  not  be  alarmed,  dear  Eva  ;  it  is 
nothing — only  a  scratch.' ' 

"  Wounded — again  wounded — alas  !  " 
cried  Blanche,  clasping  her  hands  to- 
gether and  interrupting  her  sister. 

" Take  courage  !  "  said  Dagobert ;  "I 
dare  say  it  was  only  a  scratch,  as  the 
general  calls  it.  Formerly,  he  used  to 
call  wounds  which  did  not  disable  a  man 
from  fighting,  blank  wounds.  There  was 
no  one  like  him  for  such  sayings." 

"'  Djalma,  seeing  me  wounded,"' re- 
sumed Rose,  wiping  her  eyes,  "'made 


134  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

use  of  his  heavy  carbine  as  a  club,  and 
drove  back  the  soldiers.  At  that  instant, 
I  perceived  a  new  assailant  who,  sheltered 
behind  a  clump  of  bamboos  which  com- 
manded the  ravine,  slowly  lowered  his 
long-  grin,  placed  the  barrel  between  two 
branches,  and  took  deliberate  aim  at 
Djalma.  Before  my  shouts  could  apprise 
him  of  his  danger,  the  brave  youth  had 
received  a  ball  in  his  breast.  Feeling 
himself  hit,  he  fell  back  involuntarily  two 
paces,  and -dropped  upon  one  knee;  but 
he  remained  firm,  endeavoring-  to  cover 
me  with  his  body.  You  may  conceive  my 
rage  and  despair,  while  all  n^  efforts  to 
disengage  myself  were  paralyzed  by  the 
excruciating  pain  in  my  thigh.  Powerless 
and  disarmed,  I  witnessed  for  some  mo- 
ments this  unequal  struggle. 

"' Djalma  was  losing  blood  rapidly; 
his  strength  of  arm  began  to  fail  him ; 
already  one  of  the  irregulars,  inciting  his 
comrades  with  his  voice,  drew  from  his 
belt  a  huge,  heavy  kind  of  bill-hook,  when 
a  dozen  of  our  mountaineers  made  their 
appearance,  borne  toward  the  spot  by  the 
irresistible  current  of  the  battle.  Djalma 
was  rescued  in  his  turn,  I  was  released, 
and,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  I  was  able 
to  mount  a  horse.  The  fortune  of  the  day 
is  ours,  though  with  severe  loss ;  but  the 


THE   WANDERING  JBW.  125 

fires  of  the  English  camp  are  still  visible, 
and  to-morrow  the  conflict  will  be  decisive. 
Thus,  my  beloved  Eva,  I  owe  my  life  to 
this  youth.  Happily,  his  wound  occasions 
us  no  uneasiness;  the  ball  only  glanced 
along  the  ribs  in  a  slanting  direction." 

"The  brave  boy  might  have  said  :  'A 
blank  wound,'  like  the  general."  observed 
Dagobert. 

"  '  Now,  my  dear  Eva,'  "  continued 
Rose,  " '  you  must  become  acquainted, 
by  means  of  this  narrative  at  least,  with 
the  intrepid  Djalma.  He  is  but  just 
eighteen.  With  one  word  I  will  paint 
for  you  his  noble  and  valiant  nature;  it 
is  a  custom  of  this  country  to  give  sur- 
names, and,  when  only  fifteen,  he  was 
called  "  The  Generous  " — by  which  was, 
of  course,  meant  generous  in  heart  and 
mind.  By  another  custom,  no  less  touch- 
ing than  whimsical,  this  name  has  reverted 
to  his  parent,  who  is  called  "  The  Father 
of  the  Generous,"  and  who  might,  with 
equal  propriety,  be  called  "The  Just," 
for  this  old  Indian  is  a  rare  example  of 
chivalrous  honor  and  proud  independence. 
He  might,  like  so  many  other  poor  princes 
of  this  country,  have  humbled  himself  be- 
fore the  execrable  despotism  of  the  English, 
bargained  for  the  relinquishment  of  sover- 
eign power,  and  submitted  to  brute  force — 


126  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

but  it  was  not  in  his  nature.  "  My  whole 
rights,  or  a  grave  in  my  native  moun- 
tains !  " — such  is  his  motto.  And  this  is 
no  empty  boast :  it  springs  from  the  con- 
viction of  what  is  right  and  just.  "  But 
you  will  be  crushed  in  the  struggle,"  I 
have  said  to  him.  "  My  friend/'  he  an- 
swered, "what  if,  to  force  you  to  a 
disgraceful  act,  you  were  told  to  yield  or 
die  ?  "  From  that  day  I  understood  him, 
and  have  devoted  myself,  mind  and  body, 
to  the  ever  sacred  cause  of  the  weak 
against  the  strong.  You  see,  my  Eva, 
that  Djalma  shows  himself  worthy  of  such 
a  father.  This  young  Indian  is  so  proud, 
so  heroic  in  his  bravery,  that,  like  a  young 
Greek  of  Leonidas'  age,  he  fights  with  his 
breast  bare  ;  while  other  warriors  of  his 
country  (who,  indeed,  usually  have  arms, 
breast,  and  shoulders  uncovered)  wear,  in 
time  of  battle,  a  thick,  impenetrable  vest. 
The  rash  daring  of  this  youth  reminds  me 
of  Murat,  king  of  Naples,  whom,  I  have 
so  often  told  you,  I  have  seen  a  hundred 
times  leading  the  most  desperate  charges 
with  nothing  but  a  riding-whip  in  his 
hand.'" 

"  '  That's  another  of  those  kings  I  was 
telling  you  of,  whom  the  Emperor  set  up 
for  his  amusement,"  said  Dagobert.  "  I 
once  saw  a  Prussian  officer  prisoner, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  137 

whose  face  had  been  cut  across  by  that 
madcap  King1  of  Naples'  riding-whip  ;  the 
mark  was  there,  a  black  and  blue  stripe. 
The  Prussian  swore  he  was  dishonored, 
and  that  a  saber-cut  would  have  been 
preferable.  I  should  rather  think  so ! 
That  devil  of  a  king;  he  had  only  one 
idea  :  '  Forward,  on  to  the  cannon  ! ' 
As  soon  as  they  began  to  cannonade,  one 
would  have  thought  the  grins  were  calling 
him  with  all  their  mig-ht,  for  he  was  soon 
up  to  them  with  his  '  Here  I  am  ! '  If  I 
speak  to  you  about  him,  my  children,  it's 
because  he  was  fond  of  repeating;  'No 
one  can  break  through  a  square  of  in- 
fantry if  General  Simon  or  I  can't  do  it.' ' 

Rose  continued  : 

"'I  have  observed  with  pain,  that,  not- 
withstanding- his  youth,  Djalma  is  often 
subject  to  fits  of  deep  melancholy.  At 
times,  I  have  seen  him  exchange  with  his 
father  looks  of  singular  import.  In  spite 
of  our  mutual  attachment,  I  believe  that 
both  conceal  from  me  some  sad  family 
secret,  in  so  far  as  I  can  judg-e  from  ex- 
pressions which  have  dropped  from  them 
by  chance. 

"  '  It  relates  to  some  strange  event, 
which  their  vivid  imaginations  have  in- 
vested with  a  supernatural  character. 

"  '  And  yet,  my  love,  you  and  I  have 


138  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

no  longer  the  right  to  smile  at  the  credulity 
of  others.  I,  since  the  French  campaign, 
when  I  met  with  that  extraordinary  ad- 
venture, which,  to  this  day,  I  am  quite 
unable  to  understand — ' ' 

"  This  refers  to  the  man  who  threw  him- 
self before  the  mouth  of  the  cannon,"  said 
Dagobert. 

'"And  you/"  continued  the  maiden, 
still  reading,  "  'you,  my  dear  Eva,  since 
the  visits  of  that  young  and  beautiful 
woman,  whom,  as  your  mother  asserted, 
she  had  seen  at  her  mother's  house  forty 
years  before.' ' 

The  orphans,  in  amazement,  looked  at 
the  soldier. 

"  Your  mother  never  spoke  to  me  of 
that,  nor  the  general  either,  my  children ; 
this  is  as  strange  to  me  as  it  is  to  you." 

With  increasing  excitement  and  curios- 
ity, Rose  continued : 

"  '  After  all,  my  dear  Eva,  things  which 
appear  very  extraordinary  may  often  be 
explained  by  a  chance  resemblance  or  a 
freak  of  nature.  Marvels  being  always 
the  result  of  optical  illusion  or  heated 
fancy,  a  time  must  come  when  that  which 
appeared  to  be  superhuman  or  super- 
natural will  prove  to  be  the  most  simple 
and  natural  event  in  the  world.  I  doubt 
not,  therefore,  that  the  things  which  we 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  129 

denominate  our  prodigies  will  one  day  re- 
ceive this  commonplace  solution.' ' 

"You  see,  my  children — thing's  appear 
marvelous,  which  at  bottom  are  quite 
simple — though  for  a  long  time  we  under- 
stand nothing  about  them." 

"As  our  father  relates  this,  we  must 
believe  it,  and  not  be  astonished — eh, 
sister  ?  " 

"Yes,  truty — since  it  will  be  explained 
one  day." 

"For  example,"  said  Dagobert,  after 
a  moment's  reflection,  "  you  two  are  so 
much  alike  that  any  one,  who  was  nob  in 
the  habit  of  seeing  you  daily,  might  easily 
take  one  for  the  other.  Well  !  if  they  did 
not  know  that  you  are,  so  to  speak, 
'doubles,'  they  might  think  an  imp  was 
at  work  instead  of  such  good  little  angels 
as  you  are." 

"  You  are  right,  Dagobert ;  in  this  way 
many  things  may  be  explained,  even  as 
our  father  says."  And  Rose  continued  to 
read  : 

"  *  Not  without  pride,  my  gentle  Eva, 
have  I  learned  that  Djalma  has  French 
biood  in  his  veins.  His  father  married, 
some  years  ago,  a  young  girl  whose  fam- 
ily, of  French  origin,  had  long  been  settled 
at  Batavia  in  the  island  of  Java.  This 
similarity  of  circumstances  between  my 


130  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

old  friend  and  myself — for  your  family 
also,  my  Eva,  is  of  French  origin,  and 
long-  settled  in  a  foreign  land — has  only 
served  to  augment  my  sympathy  for  him. 
Unfortunately,  he  has  long  had  to  mourn 
the  loss  of  the  wife  whom  he  adored. 

" '  See,  my  beloved  Eva  !  my  hand 
trembles  as  I  write  these  words.  I  am 
weak — I  am  foolish — but,  alas  !  my  heart 
sinks  within  me.  If  such  a  misfortune 
were  to  happen  to  me — Oh,  my  God  ! — 
what  would  become  of  our  child  without 
thee — without  his  father — in  that  barbar- 
ous country  ?  But  no  !  the  very  fear  is 
madness ;  and  yet  what  a  horrible  torture 
is  uncertainty  !  Where  may  3Tou  now  be  ? 
What  are  you  doing  ?  What  has  become 
of  you  ?  Pardon  these  black  thoughts, 
which  are  sometimes  too  much  for  me. 
They  are  the  cause  of  my  worst  moments ; 
for,  when  free  from  them,  I  can  at  least 
say  to  myself :  I  am  proscribed,  I  am 
every  way  unfortunate — but,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  world,  two  hearts  still  beat  for 
me  with  affection — yours,  my  Eva,  and 
our  child's  !  "' 

Rose  could  hardly  finish  this  passage  ; 
for  some  seconds  her  voice  was  broken  by 
sobs.  There  was,  indeed,  a  fatal  coinci- 
dence between  the  fears  of  General  Simon 
and  the  sad  reality ;  and  what  could  be 


THE  WANDEKING  JEW.  131 

more  touching-  than  these  outpourings 
of  the  heart,  written  by  the  light  of  a 
watch-fire,  on  the  eve  of  battle,  by  a  sol- 
dier who  thus  sought  to  soothe  the  pangs 
of  a  separation  which  he  felt  bitterly,  but 
knew  not  would  be  eternal  ? 

"  Poor  general !  he  is  unaware  of  our 
misfortune,"  said  Dagobert,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence  ;  "but  neither  has  he  heard 
that  he  has  two  children,  instead  of  one. 
That  will  be  at  least  some  consolation. 
But  come,  Blanche  ;  do  go  on  reading :  I 
fear  that  this  dwelling  on  grief  fatigues 
your  sister,  and  she  is  too  much  affected 
by  it.  Beside,  after  all,  it  is  only  just 
that  you  should  take  your  share  of  its 
pleasure  and  its  sorrow." 

Blanche  took  the  letter,  and  Rose,  hav- 
ing dried  her  eyes,  laid  in  her  turn  her 
sweet  head  on  the  shoulder  of  her  sister, 
who  thus  continued  : 

"  '  I  am  calmer  now,  my  dear  Eva ;  I 
left  off  writing  for  a  moment,  and  strove 
to  banish  those  black  presentiments.  Let 
us  resume  our  conversation  !  After  dis- 
coursing so  long  about  India,  I  will  talk 
to  you  a  little  of  Europe.  Yesterday  even- 
ing one  of  our  people  (a  trusty  fellow) 
rejoined  our  outposts.  He  brought  me  a 
letter,  which  had  arrived  from  France  at 
Calcutta ;  at  length,  I  have  news  of  my 


182  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

father,  and  am  no  longer  anxious  on  his 
account.  This  letter  is  dated  in  August 
of  last  year.  I  see  by  its  contents  that 
several  other  letters,  to  which  he  alludes, 
have  either  been  delayed  or  lost ;  for  I  had 
not  received  any  for  two  years  before,  and 
was  extremely  uneasy  about  him.  But  my 
excellent  father  is  the  same  as  ever  !  Age 
has  not  weakened  him ;  his  character  is 
as  energetic,  his  health  as  robust,  as  in 
times  past — still  a  workman,  still  proud 
of  his  order,  still  faithful  to  his  austere 
republican  ideas,  still  hoping  much. 

"  '  For  he  says  to  me,  "  the  time  is  at 
hand,"  and  he  underlines  those  words. 
He  gives  me  also,  as  you  will  see,  good 
news  of  the  family  of  old  Dagobert,  our 
friend — for  in  truth,  my  dear  Eva,  it 
soothes  my  grief  to  think  that  this  excel- 
lent man  is  with  you,  that  he  will  have 
accompanied  you  in  your  exile — for  I  know 
him — a  kernel  of  gold  beneath  the  rude 
rind  of  a  soldier  !  How  he  must  love  our 
child  ! '  " 

Here  Dagobert  coughed  two  or  three 
times,  stooped  down,  and  appeared  to  be 
seeking  on  the  ground  the  little  red  and 
blue  check-handkerchief  spread  over  his 
knees.  He  remained  thus  bent  for  some 
seconds,  and,  when  he  raised  himself,  he 
drew  his  hand  across  his  mustache. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  133 

"  How  well  our  father  knows  you  ! " 

"How  rightly  has  he  guessed  that  you 
would  love  us !  " 

"  Well,  well,  children ;  pass  over  that  I 
Let's  come  to  the  part  where  the  general 
speaks  of  my  little  Agricola,  and  of  Ga- 
briel, my  wife's  adopted  child.  Poor  wo- 
man !  when  I  think  that  in  three  months 
perhaps — But  come,  child ;  read,  read," 
added  the  old  soldier,  wishing  to  conceal 
his  emotion. 

"  *  I  still  hope  against  hope,  my  dear 
Eva,  that  these  pages  will  one  day  reach 
you,  and  therefore  I  wish  to  insert  in  them 
all  that  can  be  interesting  to  Dagobert. 
It  will  be  a  consolation  to  him  to  have 
some  news  of  his  family.  My  father,  who 
is  still  foreman  at  Mr.  Hardy's,  tells  me 
that  worthy  man  has  also  taken  into  his 
house  the  son  of  old  Dagobert.  Agricola 
works  under  my  father,  who  is  enchanted 
with  him.  He  is,  he  tells  me,  a  tall  and 
vigorous  lad,  who  wields  the  heavy  forge- 
hammer  as  if  it  were  a  feather,  and  is 
light-spirited  as  he  is  intelligent  and  labo- 
rious. He  is  the  best  workman  in  the 
establishment ;  and  this  does  not  prevent 
him  in  the  evening,  after  his  hard  day's 
work,  when  he  returns  home  to  his  mother, 
whom  he  truly  loves,  from  making  songs 
and  writing  excellent  patriotic  verses. 


134  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

His  poetry  is  full  of  fire  and  energy ;  his 
fellow-workmen  sing-  nothing  else,  and  his 
lays  have  the  power  to  warm  the  coldest 
and  the  most  timid  hearts.' ' 

"  How  proud  you  must  be  of  your  son, 
Dagobert,"  said  Rose,  in  admiration ;  "  he 
writes  songs." 

"  Certainly,  it  is  all  very  fine — but  what 
pleases  me  best  is,  that  he  is  good  to  his 
mother,  and  that  he  handles  the  hammer 
with  a  will.  As  for  the  songs,  before  he 
makes  a  '  Rising  of  the  People,'  or  a  '  Mar- 
seillaise/ he  will  have  had  to  beat  a  good 
deal  of  iron  ;  but  where  can  this  rascally 
sweet  Agricola  have  learned  to  make  songs 
at  all  ?  No  doubt  it  was  at  school,  where 
he  went,  as  you  will  see,  with  his  adopted 
brother  Gabriel." 

At  this  name  of  Gabriel,  which  reminded 
them  of  the  imaginary  being  whom  they 
called  their  guardian  angel,  the  curiosity 
of  the  young  girls  was  greatly  excited. 
With  redoubled  attention,  Blanche  con- 
tinued in  these  words : 

"  '  The  adopted  brother  of  Agricola,  the 
poor  deserted  child  whom  the  wife  of  our 
good  Dagobert  so  generously  took  in, 
forms,  my  father  tells  me,  a  great  con- 
trast with  Agricola ;  not  in  heart,  for 
they  have  both  excellent  hearts;  but 
Gabriel  is  as  thoughtful  and  melancholy 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  186 

as  Agricola  is  lively,  joyous,  and  active. 
Moreover,  adds  my  father,  each  of  them, 
so  to  speak,  has  the  aspect  which  belongs 
to  his  character.  Agricola  is  dark,  tall, 
and  strong,  with  a  gay  and  bold  air; 
Gabriel,  on  the  contrary,  is  weak,  fair, 
timid  as  a  girl,  and  his  face  wears  an  ex- 
pression of  angelic  mildness.' ' 

The  orphans  looked  at  each  other  in 
surprise ;  then,  as  they  turned  toward 
the  soldier  their  ingenuous  countenances, 
Rose  said  to  him.  "Have  you  heard, 
Dagobert  ?  Father  says  that  your  Ga- 
briel is  fair  and  has  the  face  of  an  angel. 
Why,  'tis  exactly  like  ours  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  heard  very  well ;  it  is  that 
which  surprised  me  in  your  dream." 

"I  should  like  to  know  if  he  has  also 
blue  eyes,"  said  Rose. 

"  As  for  that,  my  children,  thou'gh  the 
general  says  nothing  about  it,  I  will  an- 
swer for  it :  your  fair  boys  have  always 
blue  eyes.  But,  blue  or  black,  he  will  not 
use  them  to  stare  at  young  ladies ;  go  on, 
and  you  will  see  why." 

Blanche  resumed  : 

" '  His  face  wears  an  expression  of  an- 
gelic mildness.  One  of  the  Brothers  of 
the  Christian  Schools,  where  he  went 
with  Agricola  and  other  children  of  his 
quarter,  struck  with  his  intelligence  and 


136  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

good  disposition,  spoke  of  him  to  a  person 
of  consequence,  who,  becoming1  interested 
in  the  lad,  placed  him  in  a  seminary  for 
the  clergy,  and,  since  the  last  two  years, 
Gabriel  is  a  priest.  He  intends  devoting 
himself  to  foreign  missions,  and  will  soon 
set  out  for  America.' ' 

"  Your  Gabriel  is  a  priest,  it  appears  ?  " 
said  Rose,  looking  at  Dagobert. 

"  While  ours  is  an  angel,"  added 
Blanche. 

"  Which  only  proves  that  yours  is  a 
step  higher  than  mine.  Well,  every  one 
to  his  taste ;  there  are  good  people  in  all 
trades;  but  I  prefer  that  it  should  be 
Gabriel  who  has  chosen  the  black  gown. 
I'd  rather  see  my  boy  with  arms  bare, 
hammer  in  hand,  and  a  leathern  apron 
round  him,  neither  more  nor  less  than 
your  old  grandfather,  my  children — the 
father  of  Marshal  Simon,  Duke  of  Ligny 
— for,  after  all,  marshal  and  duke  he  is 
by  the  grace  of  the  Emperor.  Now  finish 
your  letter." 

"  Soon,  alas,  yes ! "  said  Blanche ; 
"there  are  only  a  few  lines  left."  And 
she  proceeded : 

"'Thus,  my  dear,  loving  Eva,  if  this 
journal  should  ever  reach  its  destination, 
you  will  be  able  to  satisfy  Dagobert  as  to 
the  position  of  his  wife  and  son,  whom  he 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  187 

left  for  our  sakes.  How  can  we  ever  re- 
pay such  a  sacrifice  ?  But  I  feel  sure 
that  your  good  and  generous  heart  will 
have  found  some  means  of  compensation. 
"  'Adieu  !  Again  adieu,  for  to-day,  my 
beloved  Eva  ;  I  left  off  writing  for  a  mo- 
ment, to  visit  the  tent  of  Djalma.  He 
slept  peacefully,  and  his  father  watched 
beside  him  ;  with  a  smile,  he  banished  my 
fears.  This  intrepid  young  man  is  no 
longer  in  any  danger.  May  he  still  be 
spared  in  the  combat  of  to-morrow  1 
Adieu,  my  gentle  Eva  !  the  night  is  silent 
and  calm;  the  fires  of  the  bivouac  are 
slowly  dying  out,  and  our  poor  mountain- 
eers repose  after  this  bloody  day ;  I  can 
hear,  from  hour  to  hour,  the  distant  all's- 
well  of  our  sentinels.  Those  foreign  words 
bring  back  my  grief ;  they  remind  me  of 
what  I  sometimes  forget  in  writing — that 
I  am  far  away,  separated  from  you  and 
from  my  child  !  Poor,  beloved  beings  ! 
what  will  be  your  destiny  ?  Ah !  if  I 
could  only  send  you,  in  time,  that  medal, 
which,  by  a  fatal  accident,  I  carried  away 
with  me  from  Warsaw,  you  might,  per- 
haps, obtain  leave  to  visit  France,  or  at 
least  to  send  our  child  there  with  Dag- 
obert ;  for  you  know  of  what  importance 
— But  why  add  this  sorrow  to  all  the 
rest  ?  Unfortunately,  the  years  are  pass- 


138  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

ing-  away,  the  fatal  day  will  arrive,  and 
this  last  hope,  in  which  I  live  for  you, 
will  also  be  taken  from  me  :  but  I  will  not 
close  the  evening1  by  so  sad  a  thought. 
Adieu,  my  beloved  Eva  !  Clasp  our  child 
to  your  bosom,  and  cover  it  with  all  the 
kisses  which  1  send  to  both  of  you  from 
the  depths  of  exile  ! 

"  ' Till  to-morrow—after  the  battle  !  '" 
The  reading1  of  this  touching-  letter  was 
followed  by  a  long-  silence.  The  tears  of 
Rose  and  Blanche  flowed  together.  Dag-o- 
bert,  with  his  head  resting-  on  his  hand, 
was  absorbed  in  painful  reflections. 

Without  doors  the  wind  had  now  aug-- 
mented  in  •  violence  ;  a  heavy  rain  began 
to  beat  on  the  sounding-  panes ;  the  most 
profound  silence  reig-ned  in  the  interior 
of  the  inn.  But,  while  the  daug-hters  of 
General  Simon  were  reading-  with  such 
deep  emotion  these  frag-ments  of  their 
father's  journal,  a  strang-e  and  mysterious 
scene  transpired  in  the  inenag-erie  of  the 
brute-tamer. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  J89 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   CAGES. 

MOROK  had  prepared  himself.  Over 
his  deer-skin  vest  he  had  drawn  the  coat 
of  mail — that  steel  tissue,  as  pliable  as 
cloth,  as  hard  as  diamonds ;  next,  cloth- 
ing1 his  arms  and  legs  in  their  proper 
armor,  and  his  feet  in  iron-bound  buskins, 
and  concealing-  all  this  defensive  equip- 
ment under  loose  trousers  and  an  ample 
pelisse  carefully  buttoned,  he  took  in  his 
hand  a  long  bar  of  iron,  white  hot,  set  in 
a  wooden  handle. 

Though  long  ago  daunted  by  the  skill 
and  energy  of  the  Prophet,  his  tiger  Cain, 
his  lion  Judas,  and  his  black  panther 
Death,  had  sometimes  attempted,  in  a 
moment  of  rebellion,  to  try  their  fangs 
and  claws  on  his  person ;  but,  thanks  to 
the  armor  concealed  beneath  his  pelisse, 
they  blunted  their  claws  upon  a  skin  of 
steel,  and  notched  their  fangs  upon  arms 
or  legs  of  iron,  while  a  slight  touch  of 
their  master's  metallic  wand  left  a  deep 
furrow  ift  their  smoking,  shriveled  flesh. 

Finding  the  inutility  of  their  efforts, 
and  endowed  with  strong  memory,  the 
beasts  soon  learned  that  their  teeth  and 


140  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

claws  were  powerless  when  directed 
against  this  invulnerable  being1.  Hence, 
their  terrified  submission  reached  to  such 
a  point  that,  in  his  public  representations, 
their  master  could  make  them  crouch  and 
cower  at  his  feet  by  the  least  movement 
of  a  little  wand  covered  with  flame- 
colored  paper. 

The  Prophet,  thus  armed  with  care,  and 
holding1  in  his  hand  the  iron  made  hot  by 
Goliath,  descended  by  the  trap-door  of 
the  loft  into  the  large  shed  beneath,  in 
which  were  deposited  the  cages  of  his 
animals.  A  mere  wooden  partition  sep- 
arated this  shed  from  the  stable  that  con- 
tained his  horses. 

A  lantern,  with  a  reflector,  threw  a 
vivid  light  on  the  cages.  They  were  four 
in  number.  A  wide  iron  grating  formed 
their  sides,  turning  at  one  end  upon  hinges 
like  a  door,  so  as  to  give  ingress  to  the 
animal ;  the  bottom  of  each  den  rested  on 
two  axletrees  and  four  small  iron  castors, 
so  that  they  could  easily  be  removed  to 
the  large  covered  wagon  in  which  they 
were  placed  during  a  journey.  One  of 
them  was  empty  ;  the  other  three  con- 
tained, as  already  intimated,  a  panther, 
a  tiger,  and  a  lion. 

The  panther,  originally  from  Java, 
seemed  to  merit  the  gloomy  name  of 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  141 

Death,  by  her  grim  ferocious  aspect. 
Completely  black,  she  lay  crouching-  and 
rolled  up  in  the  bottom  of  her  cage,  and 
her  dark  hues  mingling-  with  the  obscurity 
which  surrounded  her,  nothing-  was  dis- 
tinctly visible  but  fixed  and  glaring  eyes 
— yellow  balls  of  phosphoric  light,  which 
only  kindled,  as  it  were,  in  the  night  time ; 
for  it  is  the  nature  of  all  the  animals  of 
the  feline  species  to  enjoy  entire  clearness 
of  vision  but  in  darkness. 

The  Prophet  entered  the  stable  in  si- 
lence :  the  dark  red  of  his  long  pelisse 
contrasted  with  the  pale  yellow  of  his 
straight  hair  and  beard ;  the  lantern, 
placed  at  some  height  above  the  ground, 
threw  its  rays  full  upon  this  man,  and  the 
strong  light,  opposed  to  the  deep  shadows 
around  it,  gave  effect  to  the  sharp  pro- 
portions of  his  bony  and  savage-looking 
figure. 

He  approached  the  cage  slowly.  The 
white  rim,  which  encircled  his  eyeball,  ap- 
peared to  dilate,  and  his  look  rivaled  in 
motionless  brilliancy  the  steadily  spark- 
ling gaze  of  the  panther.  Still  crouching 
in  the  shade,  she  felt  already  the  fascina- 
tion of  that  glance  ;  two  or  three  times 
she  dropped  her  eyelids  with  a  low,  angry 
howl ;  then,  reopening  her  eyes,  as  if  in 
spite  of  herself,  she  kept  them  fastened 


143  THE   WANDEEINQ  JEW. 

immovably  on  those  of  the  Prophet.  And 
now  her  rounded  ears  clung1  to  her  skull, 
which  was  flattened  like  a  viper's;  the 
skin  of  her  forehead  became  convulsively 
wrinkled ;  she  drew  in  her  bristling,  but 
silky  muzzle,  and  twice  silently  opened 
her  jaws,  garnished  with  formidable  fangs. 
From  that  moment  a  kind  of  magnetic 
connection  seemed  to  be  established  be- 
tween the  man  and  the  beast.* 

The  Prophet  extended  his  glowing-  bar 
toward  the  cage,  and  said,  in  a  sharp, 
imperious  tone  :  "Death  !  come  here  !  " 

The  panther  rose,  but  so  dragged  her- 
self along-  that  her  belly  and  the  bend  of 
her  legs  touched  the  ground.  She  was 
three  feet  high,  and  nearly  five  in  length  ; 
her  elastic  and  fleshy  spine,  the  sinews  of 
her  thighs  as  well  developed  as  those  of  a 
race  horse,  her  deep  chest,  her  enormous 
jutting  shoulders,  the  nerve  and  muscle  in 
her  short,  thick  paws — all  announced  that 
this  terrible  animal  united  vigor  with  sup- 
pleness, and  strength  with  agilitj^. 

Morok,  with  his  iron  wand  still  ex- 
tended in  the  direction  of  the  cage,  made 
a  step  toward  the  panther.  The  panther 
made  a  stride  towTard  the  Prophet.  Mo- 
rok stopped  ;  Death  stopped  also. 

At  this  moment  the  tig-er,  Judas,  to 
whom  Morok's  back  was  turned,  bounded 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  143 

violently  in  his  cage,  as  if  jealous  of  the 
attention  which  his  master  paid  to  the 
panther.  He  growled  hoarsely,  and,  rais- 
ing his  head,  showed  the  under  part 
of  his  redoubtable  triangular  jaw,  and 
his  broad  chest  of  a  dirty  white,  with 
which  blended  the  copper  color,  streaked 
with  black,  of  his  sides;  his  tail,  like  a 
huge  red  serpent,  with  rings  of  ebony, 
now  clung  to  his  flanks,  now  lashed  them 
with  a  slow  and  continuous  movement ; 
his  eyes,  of  a  transparent,  brilliant  green, 
were  fixed  upon  the  Prophet. 

Such  was  the  influence  of  this  man  over 
his  animals,  that  Judas  almost  imme- 
diately ceased  growling,  as  if  frightened 
at  his  own  temerity  ;  but  his  respiration 
continued  loud  and  deep.  Morok  turned 
his  face  toward  him,  and  examined  him 
very  attentively  during  some  seconds.  The 
panther,  no  longer  subject  to  the  influ- 
ence of  his  master's  look,  slunk  back  to 
crouch  in  the  shade. 

A  sharp  cracking,  in  sudden  breaks, 
like  that  which  great  animals  make  in 
gnawing  hard  substances,  was  now  heard 
from  the  cage  of  the  lion.  It  drew  the 
attention  of  the  Prophet,  who,  leaving  the 
tiger,  advanced  toward  the  other  den. 

Nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  lion  but 


144  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

his  monstrous  croup  of  a  reddish  yellow. 
His  thighs  were  gathered  under  him,  and 
his  thick  mane  served  entirely  to  conceal 
his  head.  But  by  the  tension  and  move- 
ment of  the  muscles  of  his  loins,  and  the 
curving1  of  his  backbone,  it  was  easy  to 
perceive  that  he  was  making  violent  efforts 
with  his  throat  and  his  forepaws.  The 
Prophet  approached  the  cage  with  some 
uneasiness,  fearing  that,  notwithstanding 
his  orders,  Goliath  had  given  the  lion 
some  bones  to  gnaw.  To  assure  himself 
of  it,  he  said  in  a  quick,  and  firm  voice  : 
"Cain!" 

The  lion  did  not  change  his  position. 

"  Cain  !  come  here  !  "  repeated  Morok 
in  a  louder  tone.  The  appeal  was  useless ; 
the  lion  did  not  move,  and  the  noise  con- 
tinued. 

"  Cain  !  come  here  !  "  said  the  Prophet 
a  third  time ;  but,  as  he  pronounced  these 
words,  he  applied  the  end  of.  the  glowing 
bar  to  the  haunch  of  the  lion. 

Scarcely  did  the  light  track  of  smoke 
appear  on  the  reddish  hide  of  Cain,  when, 
with  a  spring  of  incredible  agility,  he 
turned  and  threw  himself  against  the 
grating,  not  crouching,  but  at  a  single 
bound — upright,  superb,  terrifying.  The 
Prophet,  being  at  the  angle  of  the  cage, 
Cain,  in  his  fury,  had  raised  himself  side- 


The  end  releases  other  men  from  strife; 
His  fate  is  ceaseless  toil  and  deathless  life. 

—The  Wandering  Jew.  Vol.  1. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  145 

ways  to  face  his  master,  and,  leaning  his 
huge  flank  against  the  bars,  thrust  be- 
tween them  his  enormous  fore-leg,  which, 
with  his  swollen  muscles,  was  as  large  as 
Goliath's  thigh. 

"  Cain  !  down  !  "  said  the  Prophet,  ap- 
proaching briskly.  " 

The  lion  did  not  obey  immediately.  His 
lips,  curling  with  rage,  displayed  fangs 
as  long,  as  large,  and  as  pointed  as  the 
tusks  of  a  wild  boar.  But  Morok  touched 
those  lips  with  the  end  of  the  burning 
metal ;  and,  as  he  felt  the  smart,  followed 
by  an  unexpected  summons  of  his  master, 
the  lion,  not  daring  to  roar,  uttered  a 
hollow  growl,  and  his  great  body  sunk 
down  at  once  in  an  attitude  of  submission 
and  fear. 

The  Prophet  took  the  lantern  to  see 
what  Cain  had  been  gnawing.  It  was 
one  of  the  planks  from  the  floor  of  his 
den,  which  he  had  succeeded  in  tear- 
ing up,  and  was  crunching  between  his 
teeth  in  the  extremity  of  his  hunger. 
For  a  few  moments  the  most  profound 
silence  reigned  in  the  menagerie.  The 
prophet,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back, 
went  from  one  cage  to  the  other,  observ- 
ing the  animals  with  a  restless,  contem- 
plative look,  as  if  he  hesitated  to  make 
between  them  an  important  and  difficult 
choice. 
VOL.  1—7 


146  THE  WANDEKING  JEW. 

From  time  to  time  he  listened  at  the 
great  door  of  the  shed,  which  opened  on 
the  courtyard  of  the  inn.  At  length  this 
door  turned  on  its  hinges,  and  Goliath 
appeared,  his  clothes  dripping-  with  water. 

"Well !  Is  it  done  ?"  said  the  Prophet. 

"Not  without  trouble.  Luckily,  the 
night  is  dark,  it  blows  hard,  and  it  pours 
with  rain." 

"  Then  there  is  no  suspicion  ?  " 

"  None,  master.  Your  information  was 
good.  The  door  of  the  cellar  opens  on  the 
fields,  just  under  the  window  of  the  lasses. 
When  you  whistled  to  let  me  know  it  was 
time,  I  crept  out  with  a  stool  I  had  pro- 
vided ;  I  put  it  up  against  the  wall  and 
mounted  upon  it ;  with  my  six  feet  that 
made  nine,  and  I  could  lean  my  elbows 
on  the  window-ledge ;  I  took  the  shutter 
in  one  hand,  and  the  haft  of  my  knife  in 
the  other,  and,  while  I  broke  two  of  the 
panes,  I  pushed  the  shutter  with  all  my 
might." 

"  And  they  thought  it  was  the  wind  ?  " 

"Yes.  They  thought  it  was  the  wind. 
You  see,  the  *  brute  '  is  not  such  a  brute, 
after  all.  That  done,  I  crept  back  into 
my  cellar,  carrying  my  stool  with  me.  In 
a  little  time,  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  old 
man  ;  it  was  well  I  had  made  haste." 

"  Yes ;  when  1  whistled  to  you,  he  had 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  147 

just  entered  the  supper-room.  I  thought 
he  would  have  been  longer." 

"  That  man's  not  built  to  remain  long 
at  supper,"  said  the  giant,  contemptuous- 
ly. "  Some  moments  after  the  panes  had 
been  broken,  the  old  man  opened  the  win- 
dow, and  called  his  dog,  saying  :  '  Jump 
out ! '  I  went  and  hid  myself  at  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  cellar,  or  that  infernal  dog 
would  have  scented  me  through  the  door. " 

"  The  dog  is  now  shut  up  in  the  stable 
with  the  old  man's  horse.  Go  on  !  " 

"When  I  heard  them  close  shutter  and 
window,  I  came  out  of  my  cellar,  replaced 
my  stool,  and  again  mounted  upon  it. 
Unfastening  the  shutter,  I  opened  it  with- 
out noise,  but  the  two  broken  panes  were 
stopped  up  with  the  skirts  of  a  pelisse.  I 
heard  talking,  but  I  could  see  nothing ; 
so  I  moved  the  pelisse  a  little,  and  then  I 
could  see  the  two  lasses  in  bed  opposite 
to  me,  and  the  old  man  sitting  down  with 
his  back  to  where  I  stood." 

"But  the  knapsack  —  the  knapsack? 
That  is  the  most  important." 

"  The  knapsack  was  near  the  window, 
on  a  table,  by  the  side  of  a  lamp ;  I  could 
have  reached  it  by  stretching  out  my 
arm." 

"  What  did  you  h»ar  said  ?  " 

"  As  you  told  me  to  think  only  of  the 


148  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

knapsack,  I  can  only  remember  what  con- 
cerns the  knapsack.  The  old  man  said 
he  had  some  papers  in  it — the  letters  of  a 
general — his  money — his  cross." 

"  Good— what  next  ?  " 

"  As  it  was  difficult  for  me  to  keep  the 
pelisse  away  from  the  hole,  it  slipped 
through  my  fingers.  In  trying  to  get 
hold  of  it  again,  I  put  my  hand  too  much 
forward.  One  of  the  lasses  saw  it,  and 
screamed  out,  pointing  to  the  window." 

"  Dolt !  "  exclaimed  the  Prophet,  be- 
coming pale  with  rage ;  "  you  have 
ruined  all." 

"  Stop  a  bit  !  there  is  nothing  broken 
yet.  When  I  heard  the  scream,  I  jumped 
down  from  my  stool,  and  got  back  into 
the  cellar;  as  the  dog  was  no  longer 
about,  I  left  the  door  ajar,  so  that  I 
could  hear  them  open  the  window,  and 
see,  by  the  light,  that  the  old  man  was 
looking  out  with  the  lamp  ;  but  he  could 
find  no  ladder,  and  the  window  was  too 
high  for  any  man  of  common  size  to  reach 
it!" 

"  He  will  have  thought,  like  the  first 
time,  that  it  was  the  wind.  You  are  less 
awkward  than  I  imagined." 

"  The  wolf  has  become  a  fox,  as  you 
said.  Knowing  wh£re  the  knapsack  was 
to  be  found  with  the  money  and  the 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  149 

papers,  and  not  being-  able  to  do  more 
for  the  moment,  I  came  away — and  here 
I  am." 

"  Go  upstairs  and  fetch  me  the  longest 
pike." 

"Yes,  master." 

"And  the  red  blanket." 

"Yes,  master." 

"Go!" 

Goliath  began  to  mount  the  ladder; 
half-way  up  he  stopped.  "  Master,"  said 
he,  "may  I  not  bring  down  a  bit  of 
meat  for  Death  ? — you  will  see  that  she'll 
bear  me  malice  ;  she  puts  it  all  down  to 
my  account;  she  never  forgets,  and  on 
the  first  occasion — " 

"  The  pike  and  the  cloth  !  "  repeated 
the  Prophet,  in  an  imperious  tone.  And 
while  Goliath,  swearing  to  himself,  pro- 
ceeded to  execute  his  instructions,  Morok 
opened  the  great  door  of  the  shed,  looked 
out  into  the  yard,  and  listened. 

"Here's  the  pike  and  the  cloth,"  said 
the  giant,  as  he  descended  the  ladder 
with  the  articles.  "  Now,  what  must  I 
do  next?  " 

"Return  to  the  cellar,  mount  once  more 
by  the  window,  and  when  the  old  man 
leaves  the  room — " 

"  Who  will  make  him  leave  the  room?" 

"  Never  mind  !  he  will  leave  it." 


150  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"What  next?  " 

"  You  say  the  lamp  is  near  the  win- 
dow?" 

"  Quite  near— on  the  table  next  to  the 
knapsack." 

"  Well,  then,  as  soon  as  the  old  man 
leaves  the  room,  push  open  the  window, 
thrown  down  the  lamp,  and  if  you  accom- 
plish cleverly  what  remains  to  do — the 
ten  florins  are  yours — you  remember  it 
all?" 

"Yes,  yes." 

"  The  girls  will  be  so  frightened  by  the 
noise  and  darkness  that  they  will  remain 
dumb  with  terror." 

"  Make  yourself  easy  !  The  wolf  turned 
into  a  fox ;  why  not  a  serpent  ?  " 

"  There  is  yet  something." 

"•Well,  what  now  ?  " 

"  The  roof  of  this  shed  is  not  very  high, 
the  window  of  the  loft  is  easy  of  access, 
the  night  is  dark — instead  of  returning 
by  the  door — " 

"  I  will  come  in  at  the  window." 

"Ay,  and  without  noise." 

"  Like  a  regular  snake  !  "  and  the  giant 
departed. 

"Yes!"  said  the  Prophet  to  himself, 
after  a  long  silence,  "  these  means  are 
sure.  It  was  not  for  me  to  hesitate.  A 
blind  and  obscure  instrument,  I  know  not 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  151 

the  motives  of  the  orders  I  have  received; 
but  from  the  recommendations  which  ac- 
company them — from  the  position  of  him 
who  sends  them — immense  interests  must 
be  involved — interests  connected  with  all 
that  is  highest  and  greatest  upon  earth  ! 
And  yet  how  can  these  two  girls,  almost 
beggars,  how  can  this  wretched  soldier 
represent  such  interests  ?>  No  matter," 
added  he,  with  humility;  "I  am  the  arm 
which  acts— it  is  for  the  head,  which  thinks 
and  orders,  to  answer  for  its  work." 

Soon  after  the  Prophet  left  the  shed, 
carrying  with  him  the  red  cloth,  and 
directed  his  steps  toward  the  little  stable 
that  contained  Jovial.  The  crazy  door, 
imperfectly  secured  by  a  latch,  was  easily 
opened.  At  sight  of  a  stranger  Spoil- 
sport threw  himself  upon  him ;  but  his 
teeth  encountered  the  iron  leggings  of  the 
Prophet,  who,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the 
dog,  took  Jovial  by  his  halter,  threw  the 
blanket  over  his  head  to  prevent  his 
either  seeing  or  smelling,  and  led  him 
from  the  stable  into  the  interior  of  the 
menagerie,  of  which  he  closed  the  door. 


153  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE     SURPRISE. 

THE  orphans,  after  reading"  the  journal 
of  their  father,  remained  for  some  mo- 
ments silent,  sad  and  pensive,  contem-. 
plating-  the  leaves,  yellowed  by  time. 
Dagobert,  also  plung-ed  •  in  a  reverie, 
thought  of  his  Wife  and  son,  from  whom 
he  had  been  so  long-  separated,  and  hoped 
soon  to  see  ag-ain. 

The  soldier  was  the  first  to  break  the 
silence,  which  had  lasted  for  several  min- 
utes. Taking-  the  leaves  from  the  hand 
of  Blanche,  he  folded  them  careful!}',  put 
them  into  his  pocket,  and  thus  addressed 
the  orphans  : 

"  Courage,  my  children  !  You  see  what 
a  brave  father  you  have.  Think  only  of 
the  pleasure  of  greeting-  him,  and  remem- 
ber always  the  name  of  the.  g-allant  youth 
to  whom  you  will  owe  that  pleasure — for 
without  him  .your  father  would  have  been 
killed  in  India." 

"  Djalma  !  we  shall  never  forget  him," 
said  Rose. 

''And  if  our  guardian  ang-el  Gabriel 
should  return,"  added  Blanche,  "  we  will 


THE  WANDERING  JBW.  158 

ask  him  to  watch  over  Djalma  as   over 
ourselves." 

"  Very  well,  my  children  ;  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  forget  nothing-  that  concerns 
good  feeling.  But  to  return  to  the  trav- 
eler who  came  to  visit  your  poor  mother 
in  Siberia.  He  had  seen  the  general  a 
month  after  the  events  of  which  you  have 
read,  and  at  a  moment  when  he  was  about 
to  enter  on  a  new  campaign  against  the 
English.  It  was  then  that  your  father 
intrusted  him  with  the  papers  and 
medal." 

"  But  of  what  use  will  this  medal  be  to 
us,  Dagobert  ?  " 

"And  what  is  the  meaning  of  these 
words  engraved  upon  it  ?  "  added  Rose, 
as  she  drew  it  from  her  bosom. 

"  Why,  it  means,  my  children,  that  on 
the  13th  of  February,  1832.  -.ve  must  be  at 
No.  3  Rue  Saint  Francois,  Paris." 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  there  ?  " 

"  Your  poor  mother  was  seized  so 
quickly  with  her  last  illness  that  she  was 
unable  to  tell  me.  All  I  know  is,  that 
this  medal  came  to  her  from  her  par- 
ents, and  that  it  had  been  a  relic  pre- 
served in  her  family  for  more  than  a 
century." 

"  And  how  did  our  father  get  it  ?  " 

"  Among  the  articles  which  had  been 


154  THE  WANDERING  JBW. 

hastily  thrown  into  the  coach,  when  he 
was  removed  by  force  from  Warsaw,  was 
a  dressing-case  of  your  mother's,  in  which 
was  contained  this  medal.  Since  that 
time  the  general  had  been  unable  to  send 
it  back,  having  no  means  of  communicat- 
ing" with  us,  and  not  even  knowing  where 
we  were." 

"  This  medal  is,  then,  of  great  impor- 
tance to  us  ?" 

"  Unquestionably  ;  for  never,  during 
fifteen  years,  had  I  seen  your  mother  so 
happy,  as  on  the  day  the  traveler  brought 
it  back  to  her.  '  Now,'  said  she  to  me,  in 
the  presence  of  the  stranger,  and  with 
tears  of  joy  in  her  eyes,  'now  may  my 
children's  future  be  brilliant  as  their  life 
has  hitherto  been  miserable.  I  will  en- 
treat of  the  governor  of  Siberia  permis- 
sion to  go  to  France  with  my  daughters ; 
it  will  perhaps  be  thought  I  have  been 
sufficiently  punished  by  fifteen  years  of 
exile,  and  the  confiscation  of  my  property. 
Should  they  refuse,  I  will  remain  here; 
and  they  will  at  least  allow  me  to  send 
my  children  to  France,  and  you  must  ac- 
company them,  Dagobert.  You  shall  set 
out  immediately,  for  much  time  has  been 
already  lost ;  and  if  you  were  not  to 
arrive  before  the  13th  of  next  February 
this  cruel  separation  and  toilsome  journey 
would  have  been  all  in  vain." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  156 

"  Suppose  we  were  one  day  after  ?  " 
"  Your  mother  told  me  that  if  we 
arrived  on  the  14th  instead  of  the  13th  it 
would  be  too  late.  She  also  gave  me  a 
thick  letter,  to  put  inlo  the  post  for 
France,  in  the  first  town  we  should  pass 
through — which  I  have  done." 

"  And  do  you  think  we  shall  be  at  Paris 

in  time  ?  " 

"I  hope  so;  still,  if  you  are  strong- 
enough,  we  must  sometimes  make  forced 
marches— for,  if  we  only  travel  our  five 
leagues  a  day,  and  that  without  accident, 
we  shall  scarcely  reach  Paris  until  the 
beginning  of  February,  and  it  is  better  to 
be  a  little  beforehand." 

"But  as  father  is  in  India,  ani  con- 
demned to  death  if  he  return  to  France, 
then  shall  we  see  him  ?  " 

"  And  where  shall  we  see  him  ?  " 
"  Poor  children  !  there  are  so  many 
things  you  have  yet  to  learn.  When  the 
traveler  quitted  him,  the  general  could 
'not  return  to  France,  but  now  he  can 
do  so." 

"And  why  is  that?" 
"Because  the  Bourbons,  who  had  ban- 
ished him,  were  themselves  turned  out 
last  year.  The  news  must  reach  India, 
and  your  father  will  certainly  come  to 
meet  you  at  Paris,  because  he  expects 


106  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

that  you  and  your  mother  will  be  there 
on  the  13th  of  next  February." 

"  Ah !  now  I  understand  how  we  may 
hope  to  see  him  !  "  said  Rose  with  a  sigh. 
.  "  Do  you  know  the  name  of  this  trav* 
eler,  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  No,  my  children  ;  but  whether  called 
Jack  or  John,  he  is  a  good  sort.  When 
he  left  3rour  mother,  she  thanked  him 
with  tears  for  all  his  kindness  and  de- 
votion to  the  general,  herself  and  her 
children  ;  but  he  pressed  her  hands  in  his, 
and  said  to  her,  in  so  gentle  a  voice  that 
1  could  not  help  being  touched  by  it : 
°  Why  do  you  thank  me?  Did  He  not 
say,  "  LOVE  YE  ONE  ANOTHER  "  '  ?  " 

"  Who  is  that,  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  whom  did  the  traveler  speak  ?" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it ;  only  the 
manner  in  which  he  pronounced  those 
words  struck  me,  and  they  were  the  last 
he  spoke." 

"  Love  one  another  !  "  repeated  Rose, 
thoughtfully. 

"How  beautiful  are  those  words!" 
added  Blanche. 

"And  whither  was  the  traveler  go- 
ing?" 

'*  Far,  very  far  into  the  North,  as  he 
told  your  mother.  When  she  saw  him 
depart,  she  said  to  me  :  '  His  mild,  sad 


THE    WANDERING  JEW.  157 

talk  has  affected  me  even  to  tears  ;  while 
1  listened  to  him,  I  seemed  to  be  growing 
better — I  seemed  to  love  my  husband  and 
my  children  more— and  yet,  to  judge  by 
the  expression  of  his  countenance,  one 
would  think  that  this  stranger  had 
never  either  smiled  or  wept ! '  She  and 
I  watched  him  from  the  door  as  long  as 
we  could  follow  him  with  our  eyes;  he 
carried  his  head  down,  and  his  walk  was 
slow,  calm,  and  firm;  one  might  fancy 
that  he  counted  his  steps.  And,  talk- 
ing of  steps,  1  remarked  yet  another 
thing/' 

"  What  was  it,  Dagobert  ?  ': 

"You  know  that  the  road  which  led  to 
our  house  was  always  damp,  because  of 
the  overflowing  of  the  little  spring." 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  then,  the  mark  of  the  traveler's 
footsteps  remained  in  the  clay,  and  T  s?w 
that  he  had  nails  under  his  shoe  in  the 
form  of  a  cross." 

"  How  in  the  form  of  a  cross  ?  " 

"Look!"  said  Dagobert,  placing  the 
tip  of  his  finger  seven  times  on  the  cov- 
erlet of  the  bed  ;  "  they  were  arranged 
thus  beneath  his  heel: 


158  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


* 
*     *     * 


You  see  it  forms  a  cross." 

"What  could  it  mean,  Dagobert?" 
"  Chance,    perhaps — 3Tes,    chance — and 
yet,  in  spite  of   myself,  this   confounded 
cross   left   behind    him   struck   me   as  a 
bad  omen,  for  hardly  was  he  gone  when 
misfortune  after  misfortune  fell  upon  us." 
"Alas  !  the  death  of  our  mother  ! " 
"Yes — but,  before  that,  another  piece 
of  ill-luck.     You  had   not   yet  returned, 
and  she  was  writing1  her  petition  to  ask 
leave   to  go   to   France   or  to  send  you 
there,  when  I  heard  the  gallop  of  a  horse. 
It  was  a  courier  from  the  governor-gen- 
eral of   Siberia.      He  brought   us  orders 
to   change    our   residence ;    within   three 
days  we  were  to  join  other  condemned 
persons,  and  be  removed  with  them  four 
hundred    leagues    further    north.     Thus, 
after    fifteen    years    of    exile,    they    re- 
doubled in  cruelty  toward  your  mother." 
"  Why  did  they  thus  torment  her  ?  " 
"  One  would  think  that  some  evil  genius 
was  at  work  against  her.     A  few  days 
later,  the  traveler  would  no  longer  have 
found  us  at  Milosk ;  and  if  he  had  joined 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  jgp 

us  further  on,  it  would  have  been  too  far 
for  the  medal  and  papers  to  be  of  use — 
since,  having-  set  out  almost  immediately, 
we  shall  hardly  arrive  in  time  at  Paris. 
'  If  they  had  some  interest  to  prevent  me 
and  my  children  from  going  to  France/ 
said  your  mother,  '  they  would  act  just 
as  they  have  done.  To  banish  us  four 
hundred  leagues  further  is  to  render 
impossible  this  journey,  of  which  the 
term  is  fixed.'  And  the  idea  over- 
whelmed her  with  grief." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  this  unexpected  sorrow 
that  was  the  cause  of  her  sudden  illness." 
"Alas!  no,  my  children;  it  was  that 
infernal  cholera,  who  arrives  without 
giving  you  notice— for  he,  too,  is  a  great 
traveler — and  strikes  you  down  like  a 
thunderbolt.  Three  hours  after  the  trav- 
eler had  left  us,  when  you  returned  quite 
pleased  and  gay  from  the  forest,  with 
your  large  bunches  of  wild-flowers  for 
your  mother,  she  was  already  in  the  last 
agony,  and  hardly  to  be  recognized.  The 
cholera  had  broken  out  in  the  village,  and 
that  evening  five  persons  died  of  it.  Your  . 
mother  had  only  time  to  hang  the  medal 
about  your  neck,  my  dear  little  Rose,  to 
recommend  you  both  to  my  care,  and  to 
beg  that  we  should  set  out  immediately. 
When  she  was  gone,  the  new  order  of 


160  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

exile  could  not  apply  to  you ;  and  I  ob- 
tained permission  from  the  governor  to 
take  my  departure  with  you  for  France, 
according  to  the  last  wishes — " 

The  soldier  could  not  finish  the  sentence: 
he  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  while 
the  orphans  embraced  him,  sobbing. 

11  Oh  !  but,"  resumed  Dagobert,  with 
pride,  after  a  moment  of  painful  silence, 
"  it  was  then  that  you  showed  yourselves 
the  brave  daughters  of  the  general.  Not- 
withstanding the  danger,  it  was  impos- 
sible to  tear  you  from  your  mother's 
bedside ;  you  remained  with  her  to  the 
last,  you  closed  her  eyes,  you  watched 
there  all  night,  and  you  would  not  leave 
the  village  till  you  had  seen  me  plant  the 
little  wooden  cross  over  the  grave  I  had 
dug  for  her." 

Dagobert  paused  abruptly.  A  strange, 
wild  neighing,  mingled  with  ferocious 
roarings,  made  the  soldier  start  from 
his  seat.  He  grew  pale,  and  cried:  ''  It 
is  Jovial !  my  horse !  What  are  they 
doing  to  my  horse  ?  "  With  that,  open- 
ing the  door,  he  rushed  down  the  stairs 
precipitately. 

The  two  sisters  clung  together,  so  terri- 
fied at  the  sudden  departure  of  the  sol- 
dier, that  they  saw  not  an  enormous 
hand  pass  through  the  broken  panes, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  161 

unfasten  the  catch  of  the  window,  push 
it  violently  open,  and  throw  down  the 
lamp  placed  on  the  little  table,  on  which 
was  the  soldier's  knapsack.  The  orphans 
thus  found  themselves  plunged  into  com- 
plete darkness. 

CHAPTER   XI. 

JOVIAL     AND     DEATH. 

MOROK  had  led  Jovial  into  the  middle 
of  the  menagerie,  and  then  removed  the 
cloth  which  prevented  him  from  seeing 
and  smelling.  Scarcely  had  the  tiger, 
lion,  and  panther  cauerht  a  glimpse  of 
him,  than  they  threw  themselves,  half- 
famished,  against  the  bars  of  their  dens. 

The  horse,  struck  with  stupor,  his  neck 
stretched  out,  his  eye  fixed,  and  trem- 
bling through  all  hit  limbs,  appeared  as 
if  nailed  to  the  ground  ;  an  abundant  icy 
sweat  rolled  suddenly  down  his  flanks. 
The  lion  and  the  tiger  uttered  fearful 
roarings,  and  struggled  violently  in  their 
dens.  The  panther  did  not  roar,  but  her 
mute  rage  was  terrific. 

With  a  tremendous  bound,  at  the  risk 
of  breaking  her  skull,  she  sprung  from 
the  back  of  the  cage  against  the  bars; 
then,  still  mute,  still  furious,  she  crawled 
back  to  the  extreme  corner  of  the  den, 
and  with  a  new  spring,  as  impetuous  as 


162  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

it  was  blind,  she  again  strove  to  force  out 
the  iron  grating.  Three  times  had  she 
thus  bounded — silent,  appalling- — when  the 
horse,  passing-  from  the  immobility  of 
stupor  to  the  wild  agony  of  fear,  neig-hed 
long-  and  loud,  and  rushed  in  desperation 
at  the  door  by  which  he  had  entered. 
Finding-  it  closed  he  hung  his  head,  bent 
his  knees  a  little,  and  rubbed  his  nostrils 
against  the  opening  left  between  the 
ground  and  the  bottom  of  the  door,  as  if 
he  wished  to  inhale  the  air  from  the  out- 
side ;  then,  more  and  more  affrighted,  he 
began  to  neigh  with  redoubled  force,  and 
struck  out  violently  with  his  fore-feet. 

At  the  moment  when  Death  was  about 
once  more  to  make  her  spring,  the  Prophet 
approached  her  cage.  The  heavy  bolt 
which  secured  the  grating  was  pushed 
from  its  staple  by  the  pike  of  the  brute- 
tamer,  and,  in  another  second,  Morok  was 
half  way  up  the  ladder  that  communicated 
with  the  loft. 

The  roaring  of  the  lion  and  tiger,  min- 
gled with  the  neighing  of  Jovial,  now 
resounded  through  all  parts  of  the  inn. 
The  panther  had  again  thrown  herself 
furiously  on  the  grating;  and  tins  time 
yielding  with  one  spring,  she  was  in  the 
middle  of  the  shed. 

The  light  of  the  lantern  was  reflected 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  168 

from  the  glossy  ebon  of  her  hide,  spotted 
with  stains  of  a  duller  black.  For  an  in- 
stant she  remained  motionless,  crouching 
upon  her  thick-set  limbs,  with  her  head 
close  to  the  floor,  as  if  calculating-  the  dis- 
tance of  the  leap  by  which  she  was  to 
reach  the  horse ;  then  suddenly  she  darted 
upon  him. 

On  seeing-  her  break  from  her  cage 
Jovial  had  thrown  himself  violently 
against  the  door,  which  was  made  to  open 
inwards,  and  leaned  against  it  with  all 
his  might,  as  though  he  would  force  it 
down.  Then,  at  the  moment  when  Death 
took  her  leap,  he  reared  up  in  almost  an 
erect  position ;  but  she,  rapid  as  lightning, 
had  fastened  upon  his  throat  and  hung 
there,  while  at  the  same  time  she  buried  the 
sharp  claws  of  her  fore-feet  in  his  chest. 
The  jugular  vein  of  the  horse  opened ; 
a  torrent  of  bright  red  blood  spouted 
forth  beneath  the  teeth  of  the  panther, 
who,  now  supporting-  herself  on  her  hind- 
legs,  squeezed  her  victim  up  against  the 
door,  while  she  dug  into  his  flank  with 
her  claws,  and  laid  bare  the  palpitating 
flesh.  Then  his  half-strangled  neighing 
became  awful. 

Suddenly  these  words  resounded:  "Cour- 
age, Jovial  1— I  am  at  hand  !     Courage  !" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Dagobert,  who  was 


164  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

exhausting  himself  in  desperate  exertions 
to  force  open  the  door  that  concealed  this 
sanguinary  struggle.  "Jovial!''  cried 
the  soldier,  "  I  am  here.  Help  !  help  !  " 

At  the  sound  of  that  friendly  and  well 
known  voice,  the  poor  animal,  almost  at 
its  last  gasp,  strove  to  turn  its  head  in 
the  direction  whence  came  the  accents  of 
his  master,  answered  him  with  a  plaintive 
neigh,  and,  sinking  beneath  the  efforts  of 
the  panther,  fell  prostrate,  first  on  its 
knees,  then  upon  its  flank,  so  that  its  back- 
bone lay  right  across  the  door,  and  still 
prevented  its  being  opened.  And  now, 
all  was  finished.  The  panther,  squatting 
down  upon  the  horse,  crushed  him  with 
all  her  paws,  and,  in  spite  of  some  last 
faint  kicks,  buried  her  bloody  snout  in 
his  body. 

"Help  !  help  !  my  horse  !  "  cried  Dago- 
bert,  as  he  vainly  shook  the  door.  "And 
no  arms!"  he  added  with  rage;  "no 
arms  !  " 

"  Take  care  !  "  exclaimed  the  brute- 
tamer,  who  appeared  at  the  window  of 
the  loft ;  "  do  not  attempt  to  enter — it 
might  cost  you  your  life.  My  panther 
is  furious." 

"But  my  horse!  my  horse!"  cried 
Dagobert,  in  a  voice  of  agony. 

"He  must  have  strayed  from  his  stable 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  165 

during-  the  night,  and  pushed  open  the 
door  of  the  shed.  At  sight  of  him  the 
panther  must  have  broken  out  of  her 
cage  and  seized  him.  You  are  answer- 
able for  all  the  mischief  that  may  ensue," 
added  the  brute-tamer,  with  a  menacing 
air;  "for  I  shall  have  to  run  the  great- 
est danger  to  make  Death  return  to  her 
den." 

"  But  my  horse  !  only  save  my  horse  !" 
cried  Dagobert,  in  a  tone  of  hopeless 
supplication. 

The  Prophet  disappeared  from  the  win- 
dow. 

The  roaring  of  the  animals  and  the 
shouts  of  Dagobert  had  roused  from 
sleep  every  one  in  the  White  Falcon. 
Here  and  there  lights  were  seen  moving 
and  windows  were  thrown  open  hur- 
riedly. The  servants  of  the  inn  soon 
appeared  in  the  yard  with  lanterns,  and 
surrounding  Dagobert,  inquired  of  him 
what  had  happened. 

"My  horse  is  there,"  cried  the  soldier, 
continuing  to  shake  the  door,  "  and  one 
of  that  scoundrel's  animals  has  escaped 
from  its  cage." 

At  these  words  the  people  of  the  inn, 
already  terrified  by  the  frightful  roaring, 
fled  from  the  spot  and  ran  to  inform 
the  host.  The  soldier's  anguish  may  be 


166  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

conceived,  as  pale,  breathless,  with  his 
ear  close  to  the  chink  of  the  door,  he 
stood  listening.  By  degrees  the  roaring 
had  ceased,  and  nothing  was  heard  but 
low  growls,  accompanied  by  the  stern 
voice  of  the  Prophet,  repeating  in  harsh, 
abrupt  accents:  "Death!  come  here! 
Death  I" 

The  night  was  profoundly  dark,  and 
Dagobert  did  not  perceive  Goliath,  who, 
crawling  carefully  along  the  tiled  roof, 
entered  the  loft  by  the  attic  window. 

And  now  the  gate  of  the  court-yard 
was  again  opened,  and  the  landlord  of 
the  inn  appeared,  followed  by  a  number 
of  men.  Armed  with  a  carbine,  he  ad- 
vanced with  precaution  ;  his  people  car- 
ried staves  and  pitchforks. 

"What  is  the  row  here?"  said  he,  as 
he  approached  Dagobert.  "  What  a  hub- 
bub in  my  house  !  The  devil  take  wild- 
beast  showmen,  and  negligent  fellows  who 
don't  know  how  to  tie  a  horse. to  the  man- 
ger !  If  your  beast  is  hurt,  so  much  the 
worse  for  you ;  you  should  have  taken 
more  care  of  it." 

Instead  of  replying  to  these  reproaches, 
the  soldier,  who  still  listened  attentively 
to  what  was  going  on  in  the  shed,  made 
a  sign  to  entreat  silence.  Suddenly  a 
ferocious  roar  was  heard,  followed  by  a 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  167 

loud    scream    from    the    Prophet ;    and, 

almost    immediately  after,    the   panther 

howled  piteously. 

"  You  are  no  doubt  the  cause  of  some 

great  accident,"  said  the  frightened  host 

to  the  soldier ;  "  did  you  not  hear  that 

cry  ?     Morok    is,    perhaps,    dangerously 

wounded." 

Dagobert  was  about  to   answer,  when 

the  door  opened,  and  Goliath  appeared  on 

the  threshold. 

"You  may  enter  now,"  said  he;  "the 

danger  is  over." 

The  interior  of  the  menagerie  presented 

a  singular  spectacle.  The  Prophet,  pale, 
and  scarcely  able  to  conceal  his  agitation 
beneath  an  apparent  air  of  calmness,  was 
kneeling  some  paces  from  the  cage  of  the 
panther,  in  the  attitude  of  one  absorbed 
in  himself  ;  the  motion  of  his  lips  indicat- 
ing that  he  was  praying.  At  sight  of 
the  host  and  the  people  of  the  inn,  he 
rose,  and  said  in  a  solemn  voice:  "I 
thank  Thee,  my  Preserver,  that  I  have 
been  able  to  conquer,  by  the  strength 
which  Thou  hast  given  me." 

Then,  folding  his  arms,  with  haughty 
brow  and  imperious  glance,  he  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  triumph  he  had  achieved  over 
Death,  who,  stretched  on  the  bottom  of 
her  den,  continued  to  utter  plaintive 


168  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

bowlings.  The  spectators  of  this  scene, 
ignorant  that  the  pelisse  of  a  brute-tamer 
covered  a  complete  suit  of  armor,  and 
attributing  the  cries  of  the  panther  solely 
to  fear,  were  struck  with  astonishment 
and  admiration  at  the  intrepidity  and 
almost  supernatural  power  of  this  man. 
A  few  steps  behind  him  stood  Goliath, 
leaning  upon  the  ashen  pikestaff.  Final- 
ly, not  far  from  the  cage,  in  the  midst 
of  a  pool  of  blood,  lay  the  dead  body  of 
Jovial. 

At  sight  of  the  blood-stained  and  torn 
remains,  Dagobert  stood  motionless,  and 
his  rough  countenance  assumed  an  expres- 
sion of  the  deepest  grief  :  then,  throwing 
himself  on  his  knees,  he  lifted  the  head  of 
Jovial;  and  when  he  saw  those  dull,  glassy, 
and  half-closed  eyes,  once  so  bright  and 
intelligent,  as  they  turned  toward  a  much- 
loved  master,  the  soldier  could  not  sup- 
press an  exclamation  of  bitter  anguish. 
Forgetting  his  anger,  forgetting  the  de- 
plorable consequences  of  this  accident,  so 
fatal  to  the  interests  of  the  two  maidens, 
who  would  thus  be  prevented  from  con- 
tinuing their  journey — he  thought  only  of 
the  horrible  death  of  his  poor  old  horse, 
the  ancient  companion  of  his  fatigues  and 
wars,  the  faithful  animal,  twice  wounded 
like  himself,  and  from  whom  for  so  many 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  169 

years  he  had  never  been  separated.  This 
poignant  emotion  was  so  cruelly,  so  affect- 
ingly  visible  in  the  soldier's  countenance, 
that  the  landlord  and  his  people  felt  them- 
selves for  a  moment  touched  with  pity, 
as  they  gazed  on  the  tall  veteran  kneeling: 
beside  his  dead  horse. 

But  when,  following;  the  course  of  his 
regrrets,  he  thought  how  Jovial  had  also 
been  the  companion  of  his  exile  ;  how  the 
mother  of  the  orphans  had  formerly  (like 
her  daughters)  undertaken  a  toilsome 
journey  with  the  aid  of  this  unfortunate 
animal,  the  fatal  consequences  of  his  loss 
presented  themselves  on  a  sudden  to  his 
mind.  Then,  fury  succeeding  to  grief,  lie 
rose,  with  anger  flashing  from  his  eyes, 
and  threw  himself  on  the  Prophet;  with 
one  hand  he  seized  him  by  the  throat,  and 
with  the  other  administered  five  or  six 
heavy  blows,  which  fell  harmlessly  on  the 
coat  of  mail. 

"Rascal!  you  shall  answer  to  me  for 
my  horse's  death  !"  said  the  soldier,  as 
he  continued  his  correction.  Morok,  light 
and  sinewy,  could  not  struggle  with  ad- 
vantage against  Dagobert,  who,  aided  by 
his  tall  stature,  still  displayed  extraor- 
dinary vigor.  It  needed  the  intervention 
of  Goliath  and  the  landlord  to  rescue  the 
Prophet  from  the  hands  of  the  old  gren- 
Voi>.  1—8 


170  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

adier.  After  some  moments,  they  suc- 
ceeded in  separating-  the  two  champions. 
Morok  was  white  with  rage.  It  needed 
new  efforts  to  prevent  his  seizing-  the 
pike  to  attack  Dagobert. 

"It  is  abominable ! "  cried  the  host, 
addressing  the  soldier,  who  pressed  his 
clenched  fists  in  despair  against  his  bald 
forehead.  "You  expose  this  good  man 
to  be  devoured  by  his  beasts,  and  then 
you  wish  to  beat  him  into  the  bargain. 
Is  this  fitting-  conduct  for  a  graybeard  ? 
Shall  we  have  to  fetch  the  police  ?  You 
showed  yourself  more  reasonable  !n  the 
early  part  of  the  evening-." 

These  words  recalled  the  soldier  to  Ljn- 
self.  He  regretted  his  impetuosity  the 
more,  as  the  fact  of  his  being  a  strang-er 
might  augrnent  the  difficulty  of  his  posi- 
tion. It  was  necessary  above  all  to  ob- 
tain the  price  of  tis  horse,  so  as  to  be 
enabled  to  continue  his  journey,  the  suc- 
cess of  which  might  be  compromised  by  a 
single  day's  delay.  With  a  violent  effort, 
therefore,  he  succeeded  in  restraining-  his 
wrath. 

"  You  are  right — I  was  too  hasty,"  said 
he  to  the  host,  in  an  agitated  voice,  which 
he  tried  to  make  as  calm  as  possible,  "  I 
had  not  the  same  patience  as  before.  But 
ought  not  this  man  to  be  responsible  for 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  171 

the  loss  of  my  horse  ?  I  make  you  judge 
in  the  matter." 

"  Well  <then,  as  judge,  I  am  not  of  your 
opinion.  All  this  has  been  your  own 
fault.  You  tied  up  your  horse  badly,  and 
he  strayed  by  chance  into  this  shed,  of 
which  no  doubt  the  door  was  half-open," 
said  the  host,  evidently  taking  part  with 
the  brute-tamer. 

"It  was  just  as  you  say,"  answered 
Goliath.  "  I  can  remember  it.  I  left  the 
door  ajar,  that  the  beasts  might  have 
some  air  in  the  night.  The  cages  were 
well  shut,  and  there  was  no  danger." 

"Very  true,"  said  one  of  the  standers- 

by. 

"It  was  only  the  sight  of  the  horse," 
added  another,  "that  made^the  panther 
furious,  so  as  to  break  out  of  its  cage." 

"  It  is  the  Prophet  who  has  the  most 
right  to  complain,"  observed  a  third. 

"  No  matter  what  this  or  that  person 
says,"  returned  Dagobert,  whose  patience 
was  beginning  to  fail  him,  "  I  say,  that  I 
must  have  either  money  or  a  horse  on  the 
instant — yes,  on  the  instant — for  I  wish 
to  quit  this  nrl:i'.:ky  house." 

"  And  1  3ay,  it  is  you  that  must  indem- 
nify me,"  cried  Morok,  who  had  kept  this 
stage-trick  for  the  last,  and  who  now  ex- 
hibited his  left  hand  all  bloody,  having 


178  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

hitherto  concealed  it  beneath  the  sleeve  of 
his  pelisse.  "  I  shall  perhaps  be  disabled 
for  life,"  he  added  ;  "see  what  a  wound 
the  panther  has  made  here  !  " 

Without  having  the  serious  character 
that  the  Prophet  ascribed  to  it,  the  wound 
was  a  pretty  deep  one.  This  last  argu- 
ment gained  for  him  the  general  sym- 
pathy. Reckoning  no  doubt  upon  this 
incident  to  secure  the  winning  of  a 
cause  that  he  now  regarded  as  his  own, 
the  host  said  to  the  hostler :  "  There  is 
only  one  way  to  make  a  finish.  It  is  to 
call  up  the  burgomaster,  and  beg  him  to 
step  here.  He  will  decide  who  is  right  or 
wrong." 

"  I  was  just  going  to  propose  it  to  you," 
said  the  soldier ;  "  for,  after  all,  I  cannot 
take  the  law  into  my  own  hands." 

"  Fritz,  run  to  the  burgomaster's  !  " — 
and  the  hostler  started  in  all  haste.  His 
master,  fearing  to  be  compromised  by  the 
examination  of  the  soldier,  whose  papers 
he  had  neglected  to  ask  for  on  his  arrival, 
said  to  him  :  "  The  burgomaster  will  be 
in  a  very  bad  humor,  to  be  disturbed  so 
late.  I  have  no  wish  to  cu.  Isr  by  it,  and 
1  must  therefore  beg  you  to  go  and  fetch 
me  your  papers,  to  see  if  they  are  in  rule. 
I  ought  to  have  made  you  show  them, 
when  you  arrived  here  in  the  evening." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  178 

"  They  are  upstairs  in  my  knapsack ; 
you  shall  have  them,"  answered  the  sol- 
dier—and turning-  away  his  ht.  J,  and 
putting  his  hand  before  his  eyes,  as  he 
passed  the  dead  body  of  Jovial,  he  went 
out  to  rejoin  the  sisters. 

The  Prophet  followed  him  with  a  glance 
of  triumph,  and  said  to  himself :  "  There 
he  goes  ! — without  horse,  without  money, 
without  papers.  I  could  not  do  more — 
for  I  was  forbidden  to  do  more — I  was  to 
act  with  as  much  cunning  as  possible,  and 
preserve  appearances.  Now  every  one 
will  think  this  soldier  in  the  wrong.  I 
can  at  least  answer  for  it,  that  he  will 
not  continue  his  journey  for  some  days — 
since  such  great  interests  appear  to  de- 
pend on  his  arrest  and  that  of  the  young 
girls/' 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  this  reflec- 
tion of  the  brute-tamer,  Karl,  Goliath's 
comrade,  left  the  hiding-place  where  his 
master  had  concealed  him  during  the 
evening,  and  set  out  for  Leipsic,  with  a 
letter  which  Morok  had  written  in  haste, 
and  which  Karl,  on  his  arrival,  was  to 
put  immediately  into  the  post. 

The  address  of  this  letter  was  as  fol- 
lows: 

"A  MONSIEUR  RODIN,  Rue  du  Millieu 
des-Ursins,  No.  11,  A  Paris,  France." 


174  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  XH. 

THE    BURGOMASTER. 

DAGOBERT'S  anxiety  increased  every 
moment.  Certain  that  his  horse  had  not 
entered  the  shed  of  its  own  accord,  he 
attributed  the  event  which  had  taken 
place  to  the  spite  of  the  brute-tamer  ;  but 
he  sought  in  vain  for  the  motive  of  this 
wretch's  animosity,  and  he  reflected  with 
dismay,  that  his  cause,  however  just, 
would  depend  on  the  good  or  bad  humor 
of  a  judge  dragged  from  his  slumbers, 
and  who  might  be  ready  to  condemn  upon 
fallacious  appearances. 

Fully  determined  to  conceal,  as  long  as 
possible,  from  the  orphans  the  fresh  mis- 
fortune which  had  befallen  them,  he  was 
proceeding  to  open  the  door  of  their 
chamber,  when  he  stumbled  over  Spoil- 
sport^-for  the  dog  had  run  back  to  his 
post,  after  vainly  trying  to  prevent  the 
Prophet  from  leading  away  Jovial. 
"  Luckily  the  dog  has  returned ;  the  poor 
little  things  have  been  well  guarded," 
said  the  soldier,  as  he  opened  the  door. 
To  his  great  surprise,  the  room  was  in 
utter  darkness. 

"My  children,"  cried  he,  "why  are  you 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  175 

without  a  light  ?  "  There  was  no  answer. 
In  terror,  he  groped  his  way  to  the  bed, 
and  took  the  hand  of  one  of  the  sisters : 
the  hand  was  cold  as  ice. 

"Rose,  my  children  !  "  cried  he. 
"  Blanche,  give  me  some  answer  !  you 
frighten  me."  Still  the  same  silence  con- 
tinued ;  the  hand  which  he  held  remained 
cold  and  powerless,  and  yielded  passively 
to  his  touch. 

Just  then,  the  moon  emerged  from  the 
black  clouds  that  surrounded  her,  and 
threw  sufficient  lig-ht  into  the  little  room, 
and  upon  the  bed,  which  faced  the  win- 
dow, for  the  soldier  to  see  that  the  two 
sisters  had  fainted.  The  bluish  light  of 
the  moon  added  to  the  paleness  of  the 
orphans ;  they  held  each  other  in  a  half 
embrace,  and  Rose  had  buried  her  head 
on  Blanche's  bosom. 

"  They  must  have  fainted  through 
fear,"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  running1  to 
fetch  his  gourd.  "Poor  things!  after  a 
day  of  so  much  excitement,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising." And,  moistening-  the  corner 
of  a  handkerchief  with  a  few  drops  of 
brandy,  the  soldier  knelt  beside  the  bed, 
gently  chafed  the  temples  of  the  two  sis- 
ters, and  held  the  linen,  wet  with  the 
spirituous  liquor,  to  their  little  pink  nos- 
trils. 


176  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Still  on  his  knees,  and  bending-  his  dark, 
anxious  face  over  the  orphans,  he  waited 
some  moments  before  again  resorting-  to 
the  only  restorative  in  his  power.  A 
slight  shiver  of  Rose  g-ave  him  renewed 
hope  ;  the  young-  girl  turned  her  head  on 
the  pillow  with  a  sigh ;  then  she  started, 
and  opened  her  eyes  with  an  expression 
of  astonishment  and  alarm  ;  but,  not  im- 
mediately recognizing  Dagobert,  she  ex- 
claimed :  "  Oh,  sister  !  "  and  threw  herself 
into  the  arms  of  Blanche. 

The  latter  also  was  beginning  to  ex- 
perience the  effect  of  the  soldier's  care. 
The  exclamation  of  Rose  completely 
roused  her  from  her  lethargy,  and  she 
clung  to  her  sister,  again  sharing  the 
fright  without  knowing  its  cause. 

"They've  come  to — that's  the  chief 
point,'*  said  Dagobert,  "now  we  shall 
soon  get  rid  of  these  foolish  fears."  Then, 
softening  his  voice,  he  added :  "  Well, 
my  children,  courage !  you  are  better. 
It  is  I  who  am  here — me,  Dagobert ! " 

The  orphans  made  a  hasty  movement, 
and,  turning  toward  the  soldier  their 
sweet  faces,  which  were  still  full  of  dis- 
may and  agitation,  they  both,  by  a  grace- 
ful impulse,  extended  their  arms  to  him 
and  cried:  "It  is  you,  Dagobert — then 
we  are  safe!" 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  177 

"Yes,  my  children,  it  is  I,"  said  the 
veteran,  taking-  their  hands  in  his,  and 
pressing-  them  joyfully.  "So  you  have 
been  much  frig-htened  during  my  ab- 
sence? " 

"  Oh,  frightened  to  death  !  " 

"If  3rou  knew— oh,  goodness  !  if  you 
knew — " 

"  But  the  lamp  is  extinguished — why  is 
that  ?  " 

"We  did  not  doit." 

"Come — recover  yourselves,  poor  chil- 
dren, and  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  have  no 
good  opinion  of  this  inn ;  but,  luckily,  we 
shall  soon  leave  it.  It  was  an  ill  wind 
that  blew  me  hither — though,  to  be  sure, 
there  was  no  other  in  the  village.  But 
what  has  happened?" 

"You  were  hardty  gone  when  the  win- 
dow flew  open  violently,  and  the  lamp  and 
table  fell  together  with  a  loud  crash." 

"  Then  our  courage  failed — we  screamed 
and  clasped  each  other,  for  we  thought  we 
could  hear  some  one  moving-  in  the  room." 

"And  we  were  so  frightened  that  we 
fainted  away." 

Unfortunately,  persuaded  that  it  was 
the  violence  of  the  wind  which  had  al- 
ready broken  the  glass,  and  shaken  the 
window,  Dagobert  attributed  this  second 
accident  to  the  same  cause  as  the  first, 


178  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

thinking-  that  he  had  not  properly  secured 
the  fastening  and  that  the  orphans  had 
been  deceived  by  a  false  alarm.  "Well, 
well — it  is  over  now,"  said  he  to  them : 
"calm  yourselves,  and  don't  think  of  it 
any  more." 

"  But  why  did  you  leave  us  so  hastily, 
Dagobert  ?  " 

"Yes,  now  I  remember — did  we  not 
hear  a  great  noise,  sister,  and  see  Dag* 
obert  run  to  the  staircase,  crying  :  "  My 
horse  !  what  are  they  doing  to  my 
horse?" 

"  It  was  then  Jovial  who  neighed  ?  " 

These  questions  renewed  the  anguish  of 
the  soldier ;  he  feared  to  answer  them, 
and  said,  with  a  confused  air  :  "Yes — 
Jovial  neig'hed — but  it  was  nothing.  By 
the  by,  we  must  have  a  light  here.  Do 
you  know  where  I  put  my  flint  and  steel 
last  evening?  Well,  I  have  lost  my 
senses  ;  it  is  here  in  my  pocket.  Luckily, 
too,  we  have  a  candle,  which  I  am  going" 
to  light ;  I  want  to  look  in  my  knapsack 
for  some  papers  I  require." 

Dagobert  struck  a  few  sparks,  obtained 
a  light,  and  saw  that  the  window  was 
indeed  open,  the  table  thrown  down,  and 
the  lamp  lying-  by  the  side  of  the  knap- 
sack. He  shut  the  window,  set  the  little 
table  on  its  feet  again,  placed  the  knap- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  179 

sack  upon  it,  and  began  to  unbuckle  this 
last  in  order  to  take  out  his  portfolio, 
which  had  been  deposited,  along1  with  his 
cross  and  purse,  in  a  kind  of  pocket  be- 
tween the  outside  and  the  lining-.  The 
straps  had  been  readjusted  with  so  much 
care  that  there  was  no  appearance  of  the 
knapsack  having  been  disturbed ;  but 
when  the  soldier  plunged  his  hand  into 
the  pocket  above  mentioned  he  found  it 
empty.  Struck  with  consternation,  he 
grew  pale,  and  retreated  a  step,  crying  : 
"  How  is  this  ?— Nothing  ! " 

"What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  Blanche. 
He  made  her  no  answer.  Motionless,  he 
leaned  against  the  table,  with  his  hand 
still  buried  in  the  pocket.  Then,  yielding 
to  a  vague  hope — for  so  cruel  a  reality 
did  not  appear  possible  —  he  hastily 
emptied  the  contents  of  the  knapsack  on 
the  table — his  poor  half-worn  clothes — his 
old  uniform-coat  of  the  horse-grenadiers 
of  the  Imperial  Guard,  a  sacred  relic  for 
the  soldier — but,  turn  and  return  them  as 
he  would,  he  found  neither  his  purse,  nor 
the  portfolio  that  contained  his  papers, 
the  letters  of  General  Simon,  and  his 
cross. 

In  vain,  with  that  serious  childishness 
which  always  accompanies  a  hopeless 
search,  he  took  the  knapsack  by  the  two 


180  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

ends,  and  shook  it  vigorously :  nothing1 
came  out.  The  orphans  looked  on  with 
uneasiness,  not  understanding  his  silence 
or  his  movements,  for  his  back  was 
turned  to  them.  Blanche  ventured  to 
say  to  him  in  a  timid  voice  :  "  What  ails 
you — you  don't  answer  us — What  is  it 
you  are  looking  for  in  your  knapsack?" 

Still  mute,  Dagobert  searched  his  own 
person,  turned  out  all  his  pockets — noth- 
ing !  For  the  first  time  in  bis  life,  per- 
haps, his  two  children,  as  he  called  them, 
had  spoken  to  him  without  receiving  a 
reply.  Blanche  and  Rose  felt  the  big  tears 
start  into  their  eyes ;  thinking  that  the 
soldier  was  angry,  they  durst  not  again 
address  him. 

"  No,  no  !  it  is  impossible — no  !  "  said 
the  veteran,  pressing  his  hand  to  his  fore- 
head, and  seeking  in  his  memory  where 
he  might  have  put  those  precious  objects, 
the  loss  of  which  he  could  not  yet  bring 
himself  to  believe.  A  sudden  beam  of 
joy  flashed  from  his  eyes.  He  ran  to  a 
chair,  and  took  from  it  the  portmanteau 
of  the  orphans ;  it  contained  a  little  linen, 
two  black  dresses,  and  a  small  box  of 
white  wood,  in  which  were  a  silk  hand- 
kerchief that  had  belonged  to  their 
mother,  two  locks  of  her  hair,  and  a 
black  ribbon  she  had  worn  round  her 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  181 

neck.  The  little  she  possessed  had  been 
seized  by  the  Russian  government,  in 
pursuance  of  the  confiscation.  Dagobert 
searched  and  researched  every  article — 
peeped  into  all  the  corners  of  the  port- 
manteau— still  nothing ! 

This  time,  completely  worn  out,  leaning 
against  the  table,  the  strong,  energetic 
man  felt  himself  giving  way.  His  face 
was  burning,  yet  bathed  in  a  cold  sweat  ; 
his  knees  trembled  under  him.  It  is  a 
common  saying,  that  drowning  men  will 
catch  at  straws  ;  and  so  it  is  with  the 
despair  that  still  clings  to  some  shred  of 
hope.  Catching  at  a  last  chance — absurd, 
insane,  impossible — he  turned  abruptly 
toward  the  orphans  and  said  to  them, 
without  considering  the  alteration  in  his 
voice  and  features :  "I  did  not  give 
them  to  you — to  keep  for  me  ? — speak  !  " 

Instead  of  answering,  Rose  and 
Blanche,  terrified  at  his  paleness,  and 
the  expression  of  his  countenance,  uttered 
a  cry.  "  Good  heavens  !  what  is  the 
matter  with  you  ?  "  murmured  Rose. 

"  Have  you  got  them — yes  or  no  ?  " 
cried  in  a  voice  of  thunder  the  unfort- 
unate, distracted  man.  "  If  you  have 
not — I'll  take  the  first  knife  I  meet  with 
and  stick  it  into  my  body  !  " 

"  Alas  !      You  are  so    good  :   pardon 


183  THE  WANDERING  JEV7. 

us  if  we  have  done  anything-  to  afflict 
you  !  You  love  us  so  much,  you  would 
not  do  us  any  harm."  The  orphans  be- 
gan to  weep,  as  they  stretched  forth  their 
hands  in  supplication  toward  the  soldier. 

He  looked  at  them  with  haggard  eye, 
without  even  seeing  them  ;  till,  as  the 
delusion  passed  away,  the  reality  pre- 
sented itself  to  his  mind  with  all  its  ter- 
rible consequences.  Then  he  clasped  his 
hands  together,  fell  on  his  knees  before 
the  bed  of  the  orphans,  leaned  his  fore- 
head upon  it,  and  amid  his  convulsive 
sobs — for  the  man  of  iron  sobbed  like 
a  child — these  broken  words  were  audi- 
ble :  "  Forgive  me — forgive  ! — I  do  not 
know  how  it  can  be !  Oh  !  what  a  mis- 
fortune— what  a  misfortune  !  Forgive 
me  !  " 

At  this  outbreak  of  grief,  the  cause  of 
which  they  understood  not,  but  which  in 
such  a  man  was  heart-rending,  the  two 
sisters  wound  their  arms  about  his  old 
gray  head,  and  exclaimed  amid  Iheir 
tears:  "  Look  at  us!  Only  tell  us  what 
is  the  matter  with  you  ? — Is  it  our  fault  ?  " 

At  this  instant,  the  noise  of  footsteps 
resounded  from  the  stairs,  mingled  with 
the  barking  of  Spoilsport,  who  had  re- 
mained outside  the  door.  The  nearer 
the  steps  approached,  the  more  furious 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  188 

became  the  barking1;  it  was  no  doubt 
accompanied  with  hostile  demonstrations, 
for  the  host  was  heard  to  cry  out  in  an 
angry  tone  :  "  Hollo  !  you  there  !  Call 
off  your  dog,  or  speak  to  him.  It  is  Mr. 
Burgomaster  who  is  coming-  up." 

"  Dagobert — do  you  hear  ? — it  is  the 
burgomaster,"  said  Rose. 

"  The}T  are  coming  upstairs — a  number 
of  people,"  resumed  Blanche. 

The  word  burgomaster  recalled  what- 
ever had  happened  to  the  mind  of  Dago- 
bert, and  completed,  so  to  express  it,  the 
picture  of  his  terrible  position.  His  horse 
was  dead,  he  had  neither  papers  nor 
money,  and  a  day,  a  single  day's  deten- 
tion, might  defeat  the  last  hope  of  the 
sisters,  and  render  useless  this  long-  and 
toilsome  journey. 

Men  of  strong  minds,  and  the  veteran 
was  of  the  number,  prefer  great  perils, 
positions  of  danger  accurately  defined, 
to  the  vague  anxieties  which  precede  a 
settled  misfortune.  Guided  by  his  good 
sense  and  admirable  devotion,  Dagobert 
understood  at  once  that  his  only  resource 
was  now  in  the  justice  of  the  burgomaster, 
and  that  all  his  efforts  should  tend  to  con- 
ciliate the  favor  of  that  magistrate.  He 
therefore  dried  his  eyes  with  the  sheet, 
rose  from  the  ground,  erect,  calm,  and 


184  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

resolute,  and  said  to  the  orphans  :  "  Fear 
nothing1,  my  children  ;  it  is  our  deliverer 
who  is  at  hand." 

"Will  you  call  off  your  dog1  or  no?" 
cried  the  host,  still  detained  on  the  stairs 
by  Spoilsport,  who,  as  a  vigilant  sentinel, 
continued  to  dispute  the  passage.  "Is 
the  animal  mad,  I  say  ?  Why  don't  you 
tie  him  up  ?  Have  you  not  caused  trouble 
enough  in  my  house  ?  I  tell  you,  that 
Mr.  Burgomaster  is  waiting1  to  examine 
you  in  your  turn,  for  he  has  finished  with 
Morok." 

Dagobert  drew  his  fingers  through  his 
gray  locks  and  across  his  mustache, 
clasped  the  collar  of  his  top-coat,  and 
brushed  the  sleeves  with  his  hand,  in 
order  to  give  himself  the  best  appearance 
possible  ;  for  he  felt  that  the  fate  of  the 
orphans  must  depend  on  the  result  of  his 
interview  with  the  magistrate.  It  was 
not  without  a  violent  beating  of  the  heart 
that  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  door  knob, 
saying  to  the  young  girls,  who  were 
growing  more  and  more  frightened  by 
such  a  succession  of  events:  "Hide 
yourselves  in  your  bed,  my  children;  if 
any  one  must  needs  enter,  it  shall  be  the 
burgomaster  alone." 

Thereupon,  opening  the  door,  the  soldier 
stepped  out  on  the  landing-place,  and  said  : 
"  Down,  Spoilsport !  Here  !  " 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  185 

The  dog-  obeyed,  but  with  manifest 
repugnance.  His  master  had  to  speak 
twice  before  he  would  abstain  from  all 
hostile  movements  toward  the  host.  This 
latter,  with  a  lantern  in  one  hand  and  his 
cap  in  the  other,  respectfully  preceded  the 
burgomaster,  whose  magisterial  propor- 
tions were  lost  in  the  half  shadows  of  the 
staircase.  Behind  the  judge,  and  a  few 
steps  lower,  the  inquisitive  faces  of  the 
people  belonging  to  the  inn  were  dimly 
visible  by  the  light  of  another  lantern. 

Dagobert,  having  turned  the  dog  into 
the  room,  shut  the  door  after  him,  and 
advanced  two  steps  on  the  landing-place' 
which  was  sufficiently  spacious  to  hold 
several  persons,  and  had  in  one  corner  a 
wooden  bench  with  a  back  to  it.  The 
burgomaster,  as  he  ascended  the  last 
stair,  was  surprised  to  see  Dagobert  close 
the  door  of  the  chamber,  as  though  he 
wished  to  forbid  his  entrance.  "  Why  do 
37ou  shut  that  door?"  asked  he  in  an 
abrupt  tone. 

"  First,  because  two  girls,  whom  I  have 
the  charge  of,  are  in  bed  in  that  room; 
secondl}7,  because  your  examination  would 
alarm  them,"  replied  Dagobert.  "Sit 
down  upon  this  bench,  Mr.  Burgomaster, 
and  examine  me  here ;  it  will  not  make 
any  difference,  I  should  think." 


186  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"And  by  what  right,"  asked  the 
judge,  with  a  displeased  air,  "do  you 
pretend  to  dictate  to  me  the  place  of 
your  examination  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  such  pretension,  Mr. 
Burgomaster  ! "  said  the  soldier  hastily, 
fearing  above  all  things  to  prejudice  the 
judge  against  him ;  "  only,  as  the  girls 
are  in  bed,  and  already  much  fright- 
ened, it  would  be  a  proof  of  your  good 
heart  to  examine  me  where  I  am." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  magistrate,  with 
ill-humor ;  "  a  pretty  state  of  things, 
truly !  It  was  much  worth  while  to  dis- 
turb me  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  But 
come,  so  be  it ;  I  will  examine  you  here." 
Then,  turning  to  the  landlord,  he  added  : 
"  Put  your  lantern  upon  this  bench,  and 
leave  us." 

The  innkeeper  obeyed,  and  went  down, 
followed  by  his  people,  as  dissatisfied  as 
they  were  at  being  excluded  from  the 
examination.  The  veteran  was  left  alone 
with  the  magistrate. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  187 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE     JUDGMENT. 

THE  worthy  burgomaster  of  Mockern 
wore  a  cloth  cap  and  was  enveloped  in  a 
cloak.  He  sat  down  heavily  on  the  bench. 
He  was  a  corpulent  man,  about  sixty, 
with  an  arrogant,  morose  countenance ; 
and  he  frequently  rubbed,  with  his  red, 
fat  fist,  eyes  that  were  still  swollen  and 
blood-shot,  from  his  having-  been  suddenly 
roused  from  sleep. 

Dagobert  stood  bareheaded  before  him, 
with  a  submissive,  respectful  air,  holding 
his  old  foraging  cap  in  his  hands,  and 
trying  to  read  in  the  sullen  physiognomy 
of  his  judge  what  chance  there  might  be 
to  interest  him  in  his  favor — that  is,  in 
favor  of  the  orphans. 

In  this  critical  juncture,  the  poor  soldier 
summoned  to  his  aid  all  his  presence  of 
mind,  reason,  eloquence  and  resolution. 
He,  who  had  twenty  times  braved  death 
with  the  utmost  coolness — who,  calm  and 
serene,  because  sincere  and  tried,  had 
never  quailed  before  the  eagle  glance  of 
the  Emperor,  his  hero  and  idol — now  felt 
himself  disconcerted  and  trembling  before 


188  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  ill-humored  face  of  a  village  burgo 
master.  Even  so,  a  few  hours  before,  he 
had  submitted,  impassive  and  resigned, 
to  the  insults  of  the  Prophet — that  he 
might  not  compromise  the  sacred  mission 
with  which  a  dying  mother  had  intrusted 
him — thus  showing  to  what  a  height  of 
heroic  abnegation  it  is  possible  for  a  sim. 
pie  and  honest  heart  to  attain. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  in  your  justi- 
fication ?  Come,  be  quick  ! "  said  the 
judge  roughly,  with  a  yawn  of  impa- 
tience. 

"  I  have  not  got  to  justify  myself — I 
have  to  make  a  complaint,  Mr.  Burgo- 
master," replied  Dagobert  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  to  teach  me  in 
what  terms  I  am  to  put  my  questions  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  magistrate,  in  so  sharp  a 
tone  that  the  soldier  reproached  himself 
with  having  begun  the  interview  so  badly. 
Wishing  to  pacify  his  judge,  he  made 
haste  to  answer  with  submission  :  "Par- 
don me,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  I  have  ill- 
explained  my  meaning.  I  only  wished 
to  say  that  I  was  not  wrong  in  this 
affair." 

"The  Prophet  says  the  contrary." 

"The  Prophet  ?  "  repeated  the  soldier, 
with  an  air  of  doubt. 

"  The  Prophet  is  a   pious  and  honest 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  JQ9 

man,"  resumed  the  judge,  "incapable  of 
falsehood." 

"  I  cannot  say  anj^thing  upon  that  sub- 
ject ;  but  you  are  too  just,  and  have  too 
good  a  heart,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  to  con- 
demn without  hearing  me.  It  is  not  a 
man  like  you  that  would  do  an  injustice ; 
oh,  one  can  see  that  at  a  glance  !  " 

In  resigning  himself  thus  to  play  the 
part  of  a  courtier,  Dagobert  softened  as 
much  as  possible  his  gruff  voice,  and 
strove  to  give  to  his  austere  countenance 
a  smiling,  agreeable,  and  flattering  ex- 
pression. "A  man  like  you,"  he  added, 
with  redoubled  suavity  of  manner,  "  a 
respectable  judge  like  you  never  shuts  his 
ear  to  one  side  or  the  other." 

"  Ears  are  not  in  question,  but  eyes ; 
and,  though  mine  smart  as  if  I  had  rubbed 
them  with  nettles,  I  have  seen  the  hand 
of  the  brute-tamer  with  a  frightful  wound 
on  it." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  it  is  very 
true ;  but  consider,  if  he  had  shut  his 
cages  and  his  door,  all  this  would  not 
have  happened." 

"  Not  so  ;  it  is  your  fault.  You  should 
have  fastened  your  horse  securely  to  the 
manger." 

"  You  are  right,  Mr.  Burgomaster, 
certainly,  you  are  right,"  said  the  sol- 


190  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

dier,  in  a  still  more  affable  and  conciliat- 
ing1 voice.  "  It  is  not  for  a  poor  devil  like 
me  to  contradict  you.  But  supposing-  my 
horse  was  let  loose  out  of  pure  malice,  in 
order  that  he  might  stray  into  the  me- 
nagerie— you  will  then  acknowledge  that 
it  was  not  my  fault.  That  is,  you  will 
acknowledge  it  if  you  think  fit,"  hastily 
added  the  soldier ;  "  I  have  no  right  to 
dictate  to  you  in  anything." 

"And  why  the  devil  should  any  one  do 
you  this  ill  turn  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Burgomaster — 
but—" 

"You  do  not  know — well,  nor  I  nei- 
ther," said  the  Burgomaster,  impatiently. 
"  Zounds  !  what  a  many  words  about 
the  carcass  of  an  old  horse  !" 

The  countenance  of  the  soldier,  losing 
on  a  sudden  its  expression  of  forced 
suavity,  became  once  more  severe ;  he 
answered  in  a  grave  voice,  full  of  emo- 
tion :  "  My  horse  is  dead — he  is  no  more 
than  a  carcass — that  is  true ;  but  an  hour 
ago,  though  very  old,  he  was  full  of  life 
and  intelligence.  He  neighed  joyously  at 
my  voice — and,  every  evening,  he  licked 
the  hands  of  the  two  poor  children  whom 
he  had  carried  all  the  day — as  formerly 
he  had  carried  their  mother.  Now  he 
will  never  carry  any  one  again :  they  will 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  191 

throw  him  to  the  dog's,  and  all  will  be 
finished.  You  need  not  have  reminded 
me  harshly  of  it,  Mr.  Burgomaster — for 
I  loved  my  horse  !  " 

By  these  words,  pronounced  with  noble 
and  touching  simplicity,  the  burgomaster 
was  moved  in  spite  of  himself,  and  re- 
gretted his  hasty  speech.  "It  is  natural 
that  you  should  be  sorry  for  your  horse," 
said  he,  in  a  less  impatient  tone ;  "  but 
what  is  to  be  done  ? — It  is  a  misfort- 
une." 

"  A  misfortune? — Yes,  Mr.  Burgomas- 
ter, a  very  great  misfortune.  The  girls, 
who  accompany  me,  were  too  weak  to 
undertake  a  long  journe3r  on  foot,  too 
poor  to  travel  in  a  carriage — and  yet  we 
have  to  arrive  in  Paris  before  the  month 
of  February.  When  their  mother  died, 
I  promised  her  to  take  them  to  France, 
for  these,  children  have  only  me  to  take 
care  of  them." 

"  You  are  then  their — " 

' '  I  am  their  faithful  servant,  Mr. 
Burgomaster ;  and  now  that  my  horse 
has  been  killed,  what  can  I  do  for  them  ? 
Come,  you  are  good,  you  have  perhaps 
children  of  your  own  :  if,  one  day,  they 
should  find  themselves  in  the  position  of 
my  two  little  orphans — with  no  wealth, 
no  resources  in  the  world  but  an  old 


192  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

soldier  who  loves  them,  and  an  old  horse 
to  carry  them  along — if,  after  being-  very 
unfortunate  from  their  birth — yes,  very 
unfortunate,  for  my  orphans  are  the 
daughters  of  exiles  —  they  should  see 
happiness  before  them  at  the  end  of  a 
journey,  and  then,  by  the  death  of  their 
horse,  that  journey  become  impossible — 
tell  me,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  if  this  would 
not  touch  your  heart  ?  Would  you  not 
find,  as  I  do,  that  the  loss  of  my  horse  is 
irreparable?  " 

"Certainly,"  answered  the  burg-om  as- 
ter, who  was  not  ill-natured  at  bottom, 
and  who  could  not  help  taking-  part  in 
Dagobert's  emotion  ;  "  I  no\v  understand 
the  importance  of  the  loss  you  have  suf- 
fered. And  then  your  orphans  interest 
me  :  how  old  are  they  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  years  and  two  months.  They 
are  twins." 

"  Fifteen  years  and  two  months — that 
is  about  the  age  of  my  Frederica." 

"  You  have  a  young  lady  of  that  age," 
cried  Dagobert,  once  more  awaking  to 
hope ;  "  ah,  Mr.  Burgomaster !  I  am 
really  no  longer  uneasy  about  my  poor 
children.  You  will  do  us  justice." 

"To  do  justice  is  my  duty.  After  all, 
in  this  affair,  the  faults  are  about  equal 
on  both  sides.  You  tied  up  your  horse 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  193 

badly,  and  the  brute-tamer  left  his  door 
open.  He  says  :  '  I  am  wounded  in  the 
hand.'  You  answer:  'My  horse  has 
been  killed — and,  for  a  thousand  reasons, 
the  loss  of  my  horse  is  irreparable,' ' 

"You  make  me  speak  better  than  I 
could  ever  speak  on  my  own  account, 
Mr.  Burgomaster,"  said  the  soldier,  with 
a  humble  insinuating-  smile ;  "  but  'tis 
what  I  meant  to  express — and,  as  you 
say  yourself,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  my  horse 
being  my  whole  fortune,  it  is  only  fair — " 

"Exactly  so,"  resumed  the  magistrate, 
interrupting  the  soldier  ;  "  your  reasons 
are  excellent.  The  Prophet — who  is  a 
good  and  pious  man  withal — has  related 
the  facts  to  me  .in  his  own  way;  and 
then,  you  see,  he  is  an  old  acquaintance. 
We  are  nearly  all  zealous  Catholics  here, 
and  he  sells  to  our  wives  such  cheap  and 
edifying  little  books,  with  chaplets  and 
amulets  of  the  best  manufacture  at  less 
than  the  prime  cost.  All  this,  you 
will  say,  •  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
affair ;  and  you  will  be  right  in  saying 
so :  still  I  must  needs  confess  that  I 
came  here  with  the  intention — " 

"  Of  deciding  against  me,  eh,  Mr.  Bur- 
gomaster ?  "  said  Dagobert,  gaining  more 
and  more  confidence.  "You  see,  you 
VOL.  1-9 


194  THK  WANDERING  JEW. 

were  not  quite  awake,  and  your  justice 
had  only  one  eye  open." 

"Really,  master  soldier/'  answered 
the  judge,  with  good  humor,  "it  is  not 
unlikely ;  for  I  did  not  conceal  from 
Morok  that  I  would  give  it  in  his  favor. 
Then  he  said  to  me  (very  generously,  by 
the  way)  :  '  Since  you  condemn  my  ad- 
versary, I  will  not  aggravate  his  position 
by  telling  you  certain  things — '  ' 

"  What  !  against  me  ?  " 

"  Apparently  so :  but,  like  a  generous 
enemy,  when  I  told  him  that  I  should 
most  likely  condemn  you  to  pay  him 
damages,  he  said  no  more  about  it.  For 
.  I  will  not  hide  from  you  that,  before  I 
heard  your  reasons,  I  fully  intended  that 
you  should  make  compensation  for  the 
Prophet's  wound." 

"  See,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  how  the  most 
just  and  able  persons  are  subject  to  be 
deceived,"  said  Dagobert,  becoming  once 
more  the  courtier;  then,  trying  to  as- 
sume a  prodigiouly  knowing  look,  he 
added  :  "  But  such  persons  find  out  the 
truth  at  last,  and  are  not  to  be  made 
dupes  of,  whatever  prophets  may  say." 

This  poor  attempt  at  a  jest — the  first 
and  only  one,  perhaps,  that  Dagobert  had 
ever  been  guilty  of — will  show  the  ex- 
tremity to  which  he  was  reduced,  and 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  195 

the  desperate  efforts  of  all  kinds  he  was 
making  to  conciliate  the  good  graces  of 
his  judge.  The  burgomaster  did  not  at 
first  see  the  pleasantry ;  he  was  only  led 
to  perceive  it  by  the  self-satisfied  mien 
of  Dagobert  and  by  his  inquiring  glance, 
which  seemed  to  say  :  "  Is  it  not  good, 
eh  ? — I  am  astonished  at  it  myself." 

The  magistrate  began,  therefore,  to 
smile  with  a  patronizing  air,  and,  nodding 
his  head,  replied  in  the  same  jocular  spirit : 
"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha !  you  are  right ;  the  Prophet 
is  out  in  his  prophecy.  You  shall  not  pay 
him  any  damages.  The  faults  on  both 
sides  are  equal,  and  the  injuries  balance 
one  another.  He  has  been  wounded,  your 
horse  has  been  killed ;  so  you  may  cry 
quits,  and  have  done  with  it." 

"  But  how  much,  then,  do  you  think  he 
owes  me?  "  asked  the  soldier,  with  singu- 
lar simplicity. 

"  How  much  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  what  sum  will 
he  have  to  pay  me.  Yes — but,  before  you 
decide,  I  must  tell  you  one  thing,  Mr. 
Burgomaster.  I  think  I  shall  be  entitled 
to  spend  only  part  of  the  money  in  buying 
a  horse.  I  am  sure,  that,  in  the  environs 
of  Leipsic,  I  could  get  a  beast  very  cheap 
from  some  of  the  peasants ;  and,  between 
ourselves,  I  will  own  to  you,  that,  if  I 


196  THE  WANDERING  JKW. 

could  meet  with  only  a  nice  little  donkey 
— I  should  not  be  overparticular — I  should 
even  like  it  just  as  well :  for,  after  my 
poor  Jovial,  the  company  of  another  horse 
would  be  painful  to  me.  I  must  also  tell 
you-" 

"  Hey-day  !  "  cried  the  Burgomaster,  in- 
terrupting Dag-chert,  "  of  what  money, 
what  donkey,  and  what  other  horse  are 
you  talking*  ?  I  tell  you,  that  you  owe 
nothing-  to  the  Prophet,  and  that  he  owes 
you  nothing- ! " 

"  He  owes  me  nothing  ?  " 

"  You  are  very  dull  of  comprehension, 
my  good  man.  I  repeat,  that,  if  the 
Prophet's  animals  have  killed  your  horse, 
the  Prophet  himself  has  been  badly  wound- 
ed ;  so  you  may  cry  quits.  In  other  words, 
you  owe  him  nothing,  and  he  owes  you 
nothing.  Now  do  you  understand  ?  '' 

Dagobert,  confounded,  remained  for 
some  moments  without  answering,  while 
he  looked  at  the  burgomaster  with  an  ex- 
pression of  deep  anguish.  He  saw  that 
his  judgment  would  again  destroy  all  his 
hopes. 

"  But,  Mr.  Burgomaster,"  resumed  he, 
in  an  agitated  voice,  "you  are  too  just 
not  to  pay  attention  to  one  thing ;  the 
wound  of  the  brute-tamer  does  not  prevent 
him  from  continuing  his  trade ;  the  death 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  197 

of  my  horse  prevents  me  from  continuing- 
my  journey ;  therefore,  he  ought  to  in- 
demnity me." 

The  judge   considered  he  had  already 
done   a  good   deal  for  Dagobert,  in  not 
making  him  responsible  for  the  wound  of 
the  Prophet,  who,  as  we  have  already  said, 
exercised    a    certain    influence    over   the 
Catholics  of   the   country  by  the  sale  of 
his  devotional   treasures,  and   also   from 
its  being  known  that  he  was  supported  by 
some  persons  of  eminence.     The  soldier's 
pertinacity,  therefore,  offended  the  magis- 
trate, who,  reassuming-  his  lofty  air,  re- 
plied, in  a  chilling  tone  :  "  You  will  make 
me  repent  my  impartiality.     How  is  this  ? 
instead  of  thanking  me,  you  ask  for  more." 
"  But,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  I  ask  only  for 

what  is  just.     I  wish  I  were  wounded  in 

the  hand,  like  the  Prophet,  so  that  I  could 

but  continue  my  journey." 

"  We  are  not  talking  of  what  you  wish. 

I  have  pronounced  sentence — there  is  no 

more  to  say." 

"  But,  Mr.  Burgomaster — " 
"Enough,  enough.      Let  us  go  to  the 

next  subject.     Your  papers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  will  speak  about  my  papers ; 

but  I  beg  of  you,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  to 

have  pity  on  those  two  children.     Let  us 


198  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

have  the  means  to  continue  our  journey, 
and—" 

"I  have  done  all  T  could  for  you — per- 
haps, more  than  I  ought.  Once  again, 
your  papers  !  " 

"I  must  first  explain  to  you — "" 

"  No  explanation — your  papers  ! — Or 
would  you  like  me  to  have  you  arrested 
as  a  vagabond  ?  " 

"  Me — arrested  !  " 

"  I  tell  you  that,  if  you  refuse  to  show 
me  your  papers,  it  will  be  as  if  you  had 
none.  Now,  those  people  who  have  no 
papers  we  take  into  custody  till  the  au- 
thorities can  dispose  of  them.  Let  me  see 
your  papers,  and  make  haste  ! — I  am  in  a 
hurry  to  get  home." 

Dagobert's  position  was  the  more  dis- 
tressing, as  for  a  moment  he  had  indulged 
in  sanguine  hope.  The  last  blow  was  now 
added  to  all  the  veteran  had  suffered  since 
the  commencement  of  the  scene,  which 
was  a  cruel  as  well  as  dangerous  trial,  for 
a  man  of  his  character — upright,  but  ob- 
stinate— faithful,  but  rough  and  absolute 
— a  man  who,  for  a  long  time  a  soldier, 
and  a  victorious  one,  had  acquired  a  cer- 
tain despotic  manner  of  treating  with  civil- 
ians. 

At  these  words — "your papers,"  Dago- 
bert  became  very  pale;  but  he  tried  to 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  199 

conceal  his  anguish  beneath  an  air  of  as- 
surance, which  he  thought  best  calculated 
to  gain  the  magistrate's  good  opinion. 
"  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  Mr.  Burgo- 
master," said  he.  "  Nothing  can  be 
clearer.  Such  a  thing  might  happen  to 
any  one.  I  do  not  look  like  a  beggar  and 
a  vagabond,  do  I?  And  yet — you  will 
understand  that  an  honest  man  who  trav- 
els with  two  young  girls — " 

"  No  more  words  !     Your  papers  !  " 

At  this  juncture  two  powerful  auxiliaries 
arrived  to  the  soldier's  aid.  The  orphans, 
growing  more  and  more  uneasy,  and  hear- 
ing Dagobert  still  talking  upon  the  land- 
ing-place, had  risen  and  dressed  them- 
selves; so  that  just  at  the  instant  when 
the  magistrate  said  in  a  rough  voice — 
"  No  more  words  !  Your  papers  !  " — 
Rose  and  Blanche,  holding  each  other  by 
the  hand,  came  forth  from  the  chamber. 

At  sight  of  those  charming  faces,  which 
their  poor  mourning  vestments  only  ren- 
dered more  interesting,  the  burgomaster 
rose  from  his  seat,  struck  with  surprise 
and  admiration.  By  a  spontaneous  move- 
ment, each  sister  took  a  hand  of  Dagobert 
and  pressed  close  to  him,  while  they  re- 
garded the  magistrate  with  looks  of  min- 
gled anxiety  and  candor. 

It  was  so  touching  a  picture,  this  of  the 


800  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

old  soldier  presenting  as  it  were  to  his 
judge  the  graceful  children,  with  coun- 
tenances full  of  innocence  and  beauty,  that 
the  burgomaster,  by  a  sudden  reaction, 
found  himself  once  more  disposed  to  senti- 
ments of  pity.  Dagobert  perceived  it ; 
and,  still  holding  the  orphans  by  the 
hand,  he  advanced  toward  him,  and  said 
in  a  feeling  voice :  "  Look  at  these  poor 
children,  Mr.  Burgomaster  !  Could  I  show 
you  a  better  passport?  "  And,  overcome 
by  so  many  painful  sensations — restrained, 
'yet  following  each  other  in  quick  succes- 
sion— Dagobert  felt,  in  spite  of  himself, 
that  the  tears  were  starting  to  his  eyes. 

Though  naturally  rough,  and  rendered 
still  more  testy  by  the  interruption  of  his 
sleep,  the  burgomaster  was  not  quite  de- 
ficient in  sense  or  feeling.  He  perceived 
at  once  that  a  man  thus  accompanied 
ought  not  to  inspire  great  distrust. 
"Poor  dear  children!"  said  he,  as  he 
examined  them  with  growing  interest ; 
"  orphans  so  3Toung,  and  they  come  from 
far—" 

"  From  the  heart  of  Siberia,  Mr.  Bur- 
gomaster, where  their  mother  was  an 
exile  before  their  birth.  It  is  now  more 
than  five  months  that  we  have  been 
traveling  on  by  short  stages  —  hard 
enough,  you  will  say,  for  children  of 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  gOl 

their  age.  It  is  for  them  that  I  ask  your 
favor  and  support — for  them,  against 
whom  everything  seems  to  combine  to- 
day— for,  only  just  now,  when  I  went  to 
look  for  my  papers,  I  could  not  find  in 
my  knapsack  the  portfolio  in  which  they 
were,  along  with  my  purse  and  cross — 
for  you  must  know,  Mr.  Burgomaster — 
pardon  me,  if  I  say  it — 'tis  not  from  vain- 
glory— but  I  was  decorated  by  the  hand 
of  the  Emperor  ;  and  a  man  whom  he 
decorated  with  his  own  hand,  you  see, 
could  not  be  so  bad  a  fellow,  though  he 
may  have  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his 
papers — and  his  purse.  That's  what  has 
happened  to  me,  and  made  me  so  pressing 
about  the  damages." 

"How  and  where  did  you  suffer  this 
loss  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Burgomaster ;  I 
am  sure  that  the  evening  before  last,  at 
bed-time,  I  took  a  little  money  out  of  the 
purse,  and  saw  the  portfolio  in  its  place ; 
yesterday  I  had  small  change  sufficient, 
and  did  not  undo  the  knapsack." 

"And  where  then  has  the  knapsack 
been  kept  ?  " 

* '  In  the  room  occupied  by  the  children ; 
but  this  night — " 

Dagobert  was  here  interrupted  by  the 
tread  of  some  one  mounting  the  stairs  :  it 


202  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

was  the  Prophet.  Concealed  in  the  shadow 
of  the  staircase,  he  had  listened  to  this 
conversation,  and  he  dreaded  lest  the 
weakness  of  the  burgomaster  should  mar 
the  complete  success  of  his  projects. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    DECISION. 

MOROK,  who  wore  his  left  arm  in  a 
sling-,  having1  slowly  ascended  the  stair- 
case, saluted  the  burgomaster  respect- 
fully. At  sight  of  the  repulsive  counte- 
nance of  the  lion-tamer,  Rose  and  Blanche, 
affrighted,  drew  back  a  step  nearer  to  the 
soldier.  The  brow  of  the  latter  grew 
dark,  for  he  felt  his  blood  boil  against 
Morok,  the  cause  of  all  his  difficulties — 
though  he  was  yet  ignorant  that  Goliath, 
at  the  instigation  of  the  Prophet,  had 
stolen  his  portfolio  and  papers. 

"  What  do  you  want,  Morok  ?  "  said 
the  burgomaster,  with  an  air  half  friendly 
and  half  displeased.  "  I  told  the  landlord 
that  I  did  not  wish  to  be  interrupted." 

"  I  have  come  to  render  you*  a  service, 
Mr.  Burgomaster." 

"  A  service  ?  " 

"Yes,  a  service;  or  I  should  not  have 
ventured  to  disturb  you.  My  conscience 
reproaches  me." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  203 

"  Your  conscience  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  it  reproaches 
me  for  not  having1  told  you  all  that  I  had 
to  tell  about  this  man ;  a  false  pity  led 
me  astray." 

"  Well,  but  what  have  you  to  tell  ?  " 

Morok  approached  the  judge  and  spoke 
to  him  for  some  time  in  a  low  voice.  At 
first  apparently  much  astonished,  the 
burgomaster  became  by  degrees  deeply 
attentive  and  anxious ;  every  now  and 
then  he  allowed  some  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise or  doubt  to  escape  him,  while  he 
glanced  covertly  at  the  group  formed  by 
Dagobert  and  the  two  young  girls.  By 
the  expression  of  his  countenance,  which 
grew  ever}'  moment  more  unquiet,  severe, 
and  searching,  it  was  easy  to  perceive 
that  the  interest  which  the  magistrate 
had  felt  for  the  orphans  and  for  the  sol- 
dier was  gradually  changed,  by  the  secret 
communications  of  the  Prophet,  into  a 
sentiment  of  distrust  and  hostility. 

Dagobert  saw  this  sudden  revolution, 
and  his  fears,  which  had  been  appeased 
for  an  instant,  returned  with  redoubled 
force  ;  Rose  and  Blanche,  confused,  and 
not  understanding  the  object  of  this  mute 
scene,  looked  at  the  soldier  with  increased 
perplexity. 

"  The  devil  1  "   said  the  burgomaster, 


304  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

rising  abruptly  ;  "  all  this  never  occurred 
to  me.  What  could  I  have  been  thinking 
of  ?  But  3'ou  see,  Morok,  when  one  is 
roused  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  one 
has  not  always  presence  of  mind.  You 
said  well :  it  is  a  great  service  yeu  came 
to  render  me." 

"  I  assert  nothing  positively,  but — " 

"No  matter;  'tis  a  thousand  to  one 
that  you  are  right." 

"It  is  only  a  suspicion  founded  upon 
divers  circumstances;  but  even  a  sus- 
picion— " 

'•'  May  give  you  scent  of  the  truth.  And 
here  was  I,  going  like  a  gull  into  the 
snare  !  Once  more,  what  could  I  have 
been  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  It  is  so  difficult  to  be  on  guard  against 
certain  appearances.*' 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  so,  my  dear 
Morok,  you  need  not  tell  me  so." 

During  this  mysterious  .conversation, 
Dagobert  was  on  thorns  ;  he  saw  vaguely 
that  a  violent  storm  was  about  to  burst. 
He  thought  only  of  how  he  should  still 
keep  his  anger  within  bounds. 

Morok  again  approached  the  judge,  and 
glancing  at  the  orphans,  recommenced 
speaking  in  a  low  voice.  "  Oh  ! "  cried 
the  burgomaster,  with  indignation,  "  you 
go  too  far  now." 


THE    WANDERING   JEW.  205 

"  I  affirm  nothing-,"  said  Morok,  hasti- 
ly;  "it  is  a  mere  supposition  founded 
on — "  and  he  again  brought  his  lips  close 
to  the  ear  of  the  judge. 

"After  all,  why  not?"  resumed  the 
magistrate,  lifting  up  his  hands;  "such 
people  are  capable  of  anything.  He  says 
that  he  brings  them  from  the  heart  of 
Siberia  :  why  may  not  all  this  prjove  to  be 
a  tissue  of  impudent  falsehoods  ?  But  I 
am  not  to  be  made  a  dupe  twice,"  cried 
the  burgomaster,  in  an  angry  tone,  for, 
like  all  persons  of  a  weak  and  shifting 
character,  he  was  without  pity  for  those 
whom  he  thought  capable  of  having  be- 
guiled his  compassion. 

"  Do  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  decide — don't 
give  to  my  words  more  weight  than  they 
deserve,"  resumed  Morok  with  a  hypo- 
critical affectation  of  humility.  "  I  am  un- 
happily placed  in  so  false  a  position  with 
regard  to  this  man  " — pointing  to  Dago- 
bert — "  that  I  might  be  thought  to  have 
acted  from  private  resentment  for  the  in- 
jury he  has  done  me ;  perhaps  I  may  so 
act  without  knowing  it,  while  I  f&ncy  that 
I  am  only  influenced  by  love  of  justice, 
horror  of  falsehood,  and  respect  for  our 
holy  religion.  Well — who  lives  long  enough 
will  know — and  may  Heaven  forgive  me  if 
I  am  deceived  !  In  any  case,  the  law  will 


200  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

pronounce  upon  it ;  and  if  they  should 
prove  innocent,  they  will  be  released  in 
a  month  or  two." 

"  And  for  that  reason,  I  need  not  hesi- 
tate. It  is  a  mere  measure  of  precaution  ; 
they  will  not  die  of  it.  Besides,  the  more 
I  think  of  it,  the  more  it  seems  probable. 
Yes,  this  man  is  doubtless  a  French  spy 
or  agitator,  especially  when  I  compare 
these  suspicions  with  the  late  demonstra- 
tion of  the  students  at  Frankfort." 

"And,  upon  that  theory,  nothing-  is 
better  fitted  to  excite  and  stir  up  those 
hot-headed  youths  than — "  He  glanced 
significantly  at  the  two  sisters ;  then, 
after  a  pause,  he  added  with  a  sigh,  "  Sa- 
tan does  not  care  by  what  means  he  works 
out  his  ends  !  " 

"  Certainly,  it  would  be  odious,  but  well 
devised." 

"  And  then,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  look  at 
him  attentively :  you  will  see  that  this 
man  has  a  dangerous  face.  You  will 
see—" 

In  continuing  thus  to  speak  in  a  low 
tone,  Morok  had  evidently  pointed  to 
Dagobert.  The  latter,  notwithstanding 
his  self-command,  felt  that  the  restraint 
he  had  imposed  upon  himself,  since  his 
arrival  at  this  unluck}^  inn,  and  above  all 
since  the  commencement  of  the  conversa- 


THB  WANDERING  JEW.  207 

tion  between  Morok  and  the  burgomaster, 
was  becoming1  no  longer  bearable ;  be- 
sides, he  saw  clearly  that  all  his  efforts  to 
conciliate  the  favor  of  the  judge  were  ren- 
dered completely  null  by  the  fatal  influ- 
ence of  the  brute-tamer ;  so,  losing  pa- 
tience, he  advanced  toward  him  with  his 
arms  folded  on  his  breast,  and  said  to  him 
in  a  subdued  voice  :  "  Was  it  of  me  that 
3rou  were  whispering  to  Mr.  Burgomas- 
ter ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Morok  ;  looking  fixedly  at 
him. 

"  Why  did  you  not  speak  out  loud  ?  " 
Having  said  this,  the  almost  convulsive 
movement  of  his  thick  mustache,  as  he 
stood  looking  Morok  full  in  the  face,  gave 
evidence  of  a  severe  internal  conflict.  See- 
ing that  his  adversary  preserved  a  con- 
temptuous silence,  he  repeated  in  a  sterner 
voice  :  *'  L  ask  you  why  you  did  not  speak 
out  loud  to  Mr.  Burgomaster,  when  you 
were  talking  of  me  ?  " 

"  Because  there  are  some  things  so 
shameful  that  one  would  blush  to  utter 
them  aloud,"  answered  Morok,  insolently. 

Till  then  Dagobert  had  kept  his  arms 
folded  ;  he  now  extended  them  violently, 
clenching-  his  fists.  This  sudden  move- 
ment was  so  expressive  that  the  two  sis- 


208  THU  WANDERING  JEW. 

ters  uttered  a  cry  of  terror,  and  drew 
closer  to  him. 

"Hark  ye,  Mr.  Burgomaster!"  said 
the  soldier,  grinding  his  teeth  with  rage, 
"  bid  that  man  go  down,  or  I  will  not  an- 
swer for  myself  !  " 

"What!"  said  the  Burgomaster,  haugh- 
tily ;  "  do  you  dare  to  give  orders  to  me  ?" 

"  I  tell  you  to  make  that  man  go  down," 
resumed  Dagobert,  quite  beside  himself, 
"  or  there  will  be  mischief  !  " 

"  Dagobert ! — good  heaven  ! — be  calm," 
cried  the  children,  grasping  his  hands. 

"  It  becomes  you,  certainly — miserable 
vagabond  that  you  are  —  not  to  say 
worse,"  returned  the  burgomaster  in  a 
rage  :  "it  becomes  you  to  give  orders  to 
me  !  Oh  !  you  think  to  impose  upon  me, 
by  telling  me  you  have  lost  your  papers  ! 
It  will  not  serve  your  turn,  for  which  you 
carry  about  with  you  these  two  girls, 
who,  in  spite  of  their  innocent  looks,  are 
perhaps,  after  all — " 

"Wretch!"  cried  Dagobert,  with  so 
terrible  a  voice  and  gesture  that  the  offi- 
cial did  not  dare  to  finish.  Taking  the 
children  by  the  arm  before  they  could 
speak  a  word,  the  soldier  pushed  them 
back  into  the  chamber  ;  then,  locking  the 
door,  and  putting  the  key  into  his  pocket, 
he  returned  precipitately  toward  the  bur- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  209 

gomaster,  who,  frightened  at  the  menac- 
ing1 air  and  attitude  of  the  veteran,  re- 
treated a  couple  of  steps,  and  held  by  one 
hand  to  the  rail  of  the  staircase. 

"  Listen  to  me  !  "  said  the  soldier,  seiz- 
ing- the  judge  by  the  arm.  "  Just  now, 
that  scoundrel  insulted  me — I  bore  with 
it — for  it  only  concerned  myself.  I  have 
heard  patiently  all  your  idle  talk,  because 
you  seemed  for  a  moment  to  interest  your- 
self in  those  poor  children.  But  since  you 
have  neither  soul,  nor  pity,  nor  justice — 
I  tell  you  that,  burgomaster  though  you 
are — I  will  spurn  you  as  I  would  spurn 
that  dog,"  pointing  again  to  the  Prophet, 
"  if  you  have  the  misfortune  to  mention 
those  two  young  girls  in  any  other  way 
than  you  would  speak  of  your  own  child  ! 
Now,  do  you  mark  me  ?  " 

"  What ! — do  you  dare  to  say,"  cried 
the  burgomaster,  stammering  with  rage, 
"  that  if  I  happen  to  mention  two  adven- 
turesses— " 

"  Hats  off ! — when  you  speak  of  the 
daughters  of  the  Duke  of  Ligny,"  cried 
the  soldier,  snatching  the  cap  of  the  burgo- 
master and  flinging  it  on  the  ground.  On 
this  act  of  aggression,  Morok  could  not 
restrain  his  joy.  Exasperated  and  losing 
all  hope,  Dagobert  had  at  length  yielded 
to  the  violence  of  Ms  anger,  after  strug* 


310  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

gling  so  painfully  against  it  for  some 
hours. 

When  the  burgomaster  saw  his  cap 
at  his  feet,  he  looked  at  the  brute-tamer 
with  an  air  of  stupefaction,  as  if  he  hes- 
itated to  believe  so  great  an  enormity. 
Dagobert,  regretting  his  violence,  and 
feeling  that  no  means  of  conciliation  now 
remained,  threw  a  rapid  glance  around 
him,  and,  retreating  several  paces,  gained 
the  topmost  steps  of  the  staircase.  The 
burgomaster  stood  near  the  bench,  in  a 
corner  of  the  landing  place,  while  Morok, 
with  his  arm  in  the  sling,  to  give  the 
more  serious  appearance  to  his  wound, 
was  close  beside  him.  "So!"  cried  the 
magistrate,  deceived  by  the  backward 
movement  of  Dagobert,  "you.  think  to 
escape,  after  daring  to  lift  hand  against 
me!  Old  villain!" 

"  Forgive  me,  Mr.  Burgomaster !  It 
was  a  burst  of  rashness  that  I  was  not 
able  to  control.  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  said 
Dagobert,  in  a  repentant  voice,  and  hang- 
ing his  head  humbly. 

"No  pi^  for  thee,  rascal !  You  would 
begin  again  to  smooth  me  over  with  your 
coaxing  ways,  but  I  have  penetrated  your 
secret  designs.  You  are  not  what  you 
appear  to  be,  and  there  is  perhaps  an 
affair  of  state  at  the  bottom  of  all  this," 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  211 

added  the  magistrate  in  a  very  diplomatic 
tone.  "  All  means  are  alike  to  those  who 
wish  to  set  Europe  in  flames." 

"lam  only  a  poor  devil,  Mr.  Burgo- 
master ;  you,  that  have  a  good  heart,  will 
show  me  some  mercy." 

"  What  !  when  you  have  pulled  off  my 
cap?" 

"And  you,"  added  the  soldier,  turning 
toward  Morok,  "you,  that  have  been  the 
cause  of  all  this — have  some  pity  upon 
me — do  not  bear  malice  !  You,  a  holy 
man,  speak  a  word  in  my  favor  to  Mr. 
Burgomaster. " 

"  I  have  spoken  to  him  what  I  was 
bound  to  speak,"  answered  the  Prophet, 
ironically. 

"  Oho  !  you  can  look  foolish  enough 
now,  3'ou  old  vagabond  !  Did  you  think 
to  impose  on  me  with  lamentations?" 
resumed  the  burgomaster,  advancing  to- 
ward Dagobert.  "  Thanks  be,  I  am  no 
ionger  your  dupe  !  You  shall  see  that  we 
have  good  dungeous  at  Leipsic  for  French 
agitators  and  female  vagrants,  for  your 
damsels  are  no  better  than  you  are. 
Corne,"  added  he,  puffing  out  his  cheeks 
with  an  important  air,  "  go  down  before 
me — and  as  for  you,  Morok — " 

The  burgomaster  was  unable  to  finish. 
For  some  minutes  Dagobert  had  only 


212  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

sought  to  gain  time,  and  had  cast  many 
a  side-glance  at  a  half-open  door  on  the 
landing-place,  just  opposite  to  the  cham- 
ber occupied  by  the  orphans  :  finding  the 
moment  favorable,  he  now  rushed  quick 
as  lightning  on  the  burgomaster,  seized 
him  by  the  throat,  and  dashed  him  with 
such  violence  against  the  door  in  question 
that  the  magistrate,  stupefied  by  this 
sudden  attack,  and  unable  to  speak  a 
word  or  utter  a  cry,  rolled  over  to  the 
further  end  of  the  room,  which  was  com- 
pletely dark.  Then,  turning  toward 
Morok,  who,  with  his  arm  encumbered  by 
the  sling,  made  a  rush  for  the  staircase, 
the  soldier  caught  him  by  his  long, 
streaming  hair,  pulled  him  back,  clasped 
him  with  hands  of  iron,  clapped  his  hand 
over  his  mouth  to  stifle  his  outcries,  and 
notwithstanding  his  desperate  resistance, 
dragged  him  into  the  chamber,  on  the 
floor  of  which  the  burgomaster  lay  bruised 
and  stunned. 

Having  double  locked  the  door,  and  put 
the  key  in  his  pocket,  Dagobert  descended 
the  stairs  at  two  bounds,  and  found  him- 
sel f  in  a  passage  that  opened  on  the  court- 
yard. The  gate  of  the  inn  was  shut,  and 
there  was  no  possibility  of  escape  on  that 
side.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents.  He  could 
see  through  the  window  of  a  parlor,  in 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  213 

which  a  fire  was  burning1,  the  host  and  his 
people  waiting1  for  the  decision  of  the 
burgomaster.  To  bolt  the  door  of  the 
passag-e,  and  thus  intercept  all  communi- 
cation with  the  yard,  was  for  the  soldier 
the  affair  'of  an  instant,  and  he  hastened 
upstairs  again  to  rejoin  the  orphans. 

Morok,  recovering  from  his  surprise, 
was  calling1  for  help  with  all  his  might; 
but,  even  if  the  distance  had  permitted 
him  to  be  heard,  the  noise  of  the  wind 
and  rain  would  have  drowned  his  outcries. 
Dagobert  had  about  an  hour  before  him, 
for  it  would  require  some  time  to  elapse 
before  the  length  of  his  interview  with 
the  magistrate  would  excite  astonishment; 
and,  suspicion  or  fear  once  awakened,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  break  open  two 
doors — that  which  separated  the  passage 
from  the  courtyard  and  that  of  the  room 
in  which  the  burgomaster  and  the  Prophet 
were  confined. 

"My  children,  it  is  now  time  to  prove 
that  you  have  a  soldier's  blood  in  }rour 
veins,"  said  Dagobert,  as  he  entered 
abruptly  the  chamber  of  the  young  girls, 
who  were  terrified  at  the  racket  they  had 
heard  for  some  minutes. 

"  Good  heaven,  Dag-obert !  what  has 
happened  ?  "  cried  Blanche. 


214  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"What  do  you  wish  us  to  do  ?  "  added 
Rose. 

Without  answering-,  the  soldier  ran  to 
the  bed,  tore  off  the  sheets,  tied  them 
strongly  together,  made  a  knot  at  one  end, 
passed  it  over  the  top  of  the  left  half  of  the 
casement,  and  so  shut  it  in.  Thus  made 
fast  by  the  size  of  the  knot,  which  could 
not  slip  through,  the  sheets,  floating  on  the 
outside,  touched  the  ground.  The  second 
half  of  the  window  was  left  open,  to  afford 
a  passage  to  the  fugitives. 

The  veteran  next  took  his  knapsack,  the 
children's  portmanteau,  and  the  reindeer 
pelisse,  and  threw  them  all  out  of  the  win- 
dow, making  a  sign  to  Spoilsport  to  follow, 
to  watch  over  them.  The  dog  did  not 
hesitate,  but  disappeared  at  a  single  bound. 
Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  Dagobert  in 
amazement,  without  uttering  a  word. 

"  Now,  children,"  said  he  to  them,  "  the 
doors  of  the  inn  are  shut,  and  it  is  by  this 
way,"  pointing  to  the  window,  "that  we 
must  pass— if  we  would  not  be  arrested,  put 
in  prison — you  in  one  place,  and  I  in  the 
other — and  have  our  journey  altogether 
knocked  on  the  head." 

"Arrested  !  put  in  prison  !  "  cried  Rose. 

"  Separated  from  you  !  "  exclaimed 
Blanche. 

"  Yes,  my  poor  children  I    They  have 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  215 

killed  Jovial — we  must  make  our  escape  on 
foot,  and  try  to  reach  Leipsic — when  you 
are  tired,  I  will  carry  you,  and,  though  I 
have  to  beg1  my  way,  we  will  go  through 
with  it.  But  a  quarter  of  an  hoar  later, 
and  all  will  be  lost.  Come,  children,  have 
trust  in  me — show  that  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon  are  no  cowards — and  there 
is  yet  hope." 

~By  a  sympathetic  movement,  the  sisters 
joined  hands,  as  though  they  would  meet 
the  danger  united.  Their  sweet  faces, 
pale  from  the  effect  of  so  many  painful 
emotions,  were  now  expressive  of  simple 
resolve,  founded  on  the  blind  faith  they 
reposed  in  the  devotion  of  the  soldier. 

"  Be  satisfied,  Dagobert !  we'll  not  be 
frightened,"  said  Rose,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  We  will  do  what  must  be  done,"  added 
Blanche,  in  a  no  less  resolute  tone. 

"I  was  sure  of  it,"  cried  Dagobert ; 
"  good  blood  is  ever  thicker  than  water. 
Come  !  you  are  light  as  feathers,  the  sheet 
is  strong,  it  is  hardly  eight  feet  to  the 
ground,  and  the  pup  is  waiting  for  3Tou." 

"  It  is  for  me  to  go  first — I  am  the  eldest 
for  to-da3T,"  cried  Rose,  when  she  had 
tenderly  embraced  Blanche ;  and  she  ran 
to  the  window,  in  order,  if  there  were  any 
danger,  to  expose  herself  to  it  before  her 
sister. 


216  TBE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Dagobert  easily  guessed  the  cause  of 
this  eagerness.  "Dear  children!"  said 
he,  "  I  understand  you.  But  fear  nothing 
fer  one  another — there  is  no  danger.  I 
have  myself  fastened  the  sheet.  Quick, 
my  little  Rose  !  " 

As  light  as  a  bird,  the  young-  girl 
mounted  the  ledge  of  the  window,  and, 
assisted  by  Dagobert,  took  hold  of  the 
sheet,  and  slid  gently  down  according  to 
the  recommendation  of  the  soldier,  who, 
leaning  out  his  whole  body,  encouraged 
her  with  his  voice. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  sister !  "  said  she,  as 
soon  as  she  touched  the  ground ;  "  it  is  very 
easy  to  come  down  this  way.  And  Spoil- 
sport is  here,  licking  my  hands. "  Blanche 
did  not  long  keep  her  waiting ;  as  coura- 
geous as  her  sister,  she  descended  with 
the  same  success. 

"  Dear  little  creatures  !  what  have  they 
done  to  be  so  unfortunate  ?  Thousand 
thunders  !  there  must  be  a  curse  upon  the 
family,"  cried  Dagobert,  as,  with  heavy 
heart,  he  saw  the  pale,  sweet  face  of  the 
young  girl  disappear  amid  the  gloom  of 
the  dark  night,  which  violent  squalls  of 
wind  and  torrents  of  rain  rendered  still 
more  dismal. 

"Dagobert,  we  are  waiting  for  you; 
come  quickly  !  "  said  the  orphans  in  a 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  217 

low  voice,  from  beneath  the  window. 
Thanks  to  his  tall  stature,  the  soldier 
rather  leaped  than  glided  to  the  ground. 

Dagobert  and  the  two  young  girls  hud 
not  fled  from  the  inn  of  the  White  Falcon 
more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  a 
long  crash  resounded  through  the  house. 
The  door  had  yielded  to  the  efforts  of  the 
burgomaster  and  Morok,  who  had  made 
use  of  a  heavy  table  as  a  battering-ram. 
Guided  by  the  light,  they  ran  to  the 
chamber  of  the  orphans,  now  deserted. 
Morok  saw  the  sheets  floating  from  the 
casement,  and  cried  :  "  Mr.  Burgomaster, 
they  have  escaped  by  the  window — they 
are  on  foot  —  in  this  dark  and  stormy 
night,  they  cannot  be  far." 

"No  doubt  we  shall  catch  them,  the 
miserable  tramps!  Oh,  I  will  be  revenged! 
Quick,  Morok;  your  honor  is  concerned  as 
well  as  mine." 

"  My  honor  ?  Much  more  is  concerned 
than  that,  Mr.  Burgomaster,"  answered 
the  Prophet,  in  a  tone  of  great  irritation. 
Then,  rapidly  descending  the  stairs,  he 
opened  the  door  of  the  court-yard,  and 
shouted  in  a  voice  of  thunder :  "  Goliath  ! 
unchain  the  dogs  ! — and,  landlord  !  bring 
us  lanterns,  torches — arm  your  people — 
open  the  doors !  We  must  pursue  the 
fugitives ;  they  cannot  escape  us ;  we 
must  have  them — alive  or  dead  I  " 
VOL.  1—10 


WATERING  MW. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE      DISPATCHES. 

**  WHEN  we  read,  in  the  roles  of  the  order 
of  the  Jesuits,  under  the  title  De  for- 
mula seribendi  (Institut.  2,  11,  pp. 
125-129),  the  development  of  the  Sth 
part  of  the  constitutions,  we  are  ap- 
palled by  the  number  of  letters,  nar- 
ratives, registers,  and  writings  of  all 
kinds,  preserved  in  the  archives  of  the 
society. 

**It  is  a  police  infinitely  more  exact  and 
better  informed  than  has  ever  been 
that  of  any  state.  Even  the  govern- 
ment of  Venice  found  itself  surpassed 
by  the  Jesuits:  when  it  drove  them 
out  in  1606.  it  seized  all  their  papers, 
and  reproached  them  for  their  great 
and  laborious  curiosity.  This  police, 
this  secret  inquisition,  carried  to  such 
a  degree  of  perfection,  may  give  some 
idea  of  the  strength  of  a  government, 
so  well-informed ,  so  persevering  in  its 
projects,  so  powerful  by  its  unity, 
and,  as  the  constitutions  have  it,  by 
the  union  of  its  members.  It  is  not 
hard  to  understand,  what  immense 
force  must  belong  to  the  heads  of 


this  society,  and  how  the  general  of 
the  Jesuits  could  say  to  the  Duke  de 
Brissac :  ;  From  this  room,  your 
grace,  I  govern  not  only  Paris,  but 
China  — not  only  China,  but  the 
whole  world — and  all  without  any 
one  knowing  how  it  is  done.' ' 
(CONSTITUTION  OP  THE  JESUITS,  edited 

by  FAULTS',  Paris,  1843.) 
MOROK,  the  lion-tamer,  seeing  Dago- 
bert  deprived  of  his  horse,  and  stripped 
of  his  money  and  papers,  and  thinking  it 
was  thus  oat  of  his  power  to  continue 
his  joarney,  had,  previous  to  the  arrival 
of  the  burgomaster,  dispatched  Karl  to 
Leipsic,  as  the  bearer  of  a  letter  which 
he  was  to  put  immediately  into  the  post. 
The  address  of  this  letter  was  as  follows  : 
"A  Monsieur  Rodin,  Rue  du  Milieu  des 
Ursins.  Paris." 

About  the  middle  of  this  obscure  and 
solitary  street,  situated  below  the  level 
of  the  Quai  Napoleon,  which  it  joins  not 
far  from  the  Rue  Saint  Landry,  there 
stood  a  house  of  unpretentious  appear- 
ance, at  the  bottom  of  a  dark  and  narrow 
court-yard,  separated  from  the  street  by 
a  low  building  in  front,  with  arched  door- 
way, and  two  windows  protected  by  thick 
iron  bars.  Nothing  could  be  more  simple 
than  the  interior  of  this  quiet  dwelling. 


330  ME  WANDERING  JEW. 

as  was  sufficiently  shown  by  the  furniture 
of  a  pretty  large  room  on  the  ground 
floor.  The  walls  of  this  apartment  were 
lined  with  old  gray  wainscot ;  the  tiled 
floor  was  painted  red  and  carefully  pol- 
ished ;  curtains  of  white  calico  shaded  the 
windows. 

A  sphere  of  about  four  feet  in  diameter, 
raised  on  a  pedestal  of  massive  oak,  stood 
at  one  end  of  the  room,  opposite  to  the 
fire-place.  Upon  this  globe,  which  was 
painted  on  a  large  scale,  a  host  of  little 
red  crosses  appeared  scattered  over  all 
parts  of  the  world — from  the  North  to 
the  South,  from  the  rising  to  the  setting 
sun,  from  the  most  barbarous  countries, 
from  the  most  distant  isles,  to  the  centers 
of  civilization,  to  France  itself.  There  was 
not  a  single  country  which  did  not  present 
some  spots  marked  with  these  red  crosses, 
evidently  indicative  of  stations,  or  serv- 
ing as  points  of  reference. 

Before  a  table  of  black  wood,  loaded 
with  papers,  and  resting  against  the  wall 
near  the  chimney,  a  chair  stood  empty. 
Further  on,  between  the  two  windows, 
was  a  large  walnut-wood  desk,surmounted 
by  shelves  full  of  pasteboard  boxes. 

At  the  end  of  the  month  of  October, 
1831,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
a  man  sat  writing  at  this  desk.  This  was 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  ggl 

M.  Rodin,  the  correspondent  of  Morok, 
the  brute-tamer. 

About  fifty  years  of  age,  he  wore  an 
old,  shabby,  olive  greatcoat,  with  a  greasy 
collar,  a  snuff-powdered  cotton  handker- 
chief for  a  cravat,  and  waistcoat  and 
trousers  of  threadbare  black  cloth.  His 
feet,  buried  in  loose  varnished  shoes, 
rested  on  a  petty  piece  of  green  baize 
upon  the  red,  polished  floor.  His  gray 
hair  lay  flat  on  his  temples,  and  encircled 
his  bald  forehead ;  his  eyebrows  were 
scarcely  marked ;  his  upper  eyelid,  flab- 
by and  overhanging",  like  the  membrane 
which  shades  the  eyes  of  reptiles,  half 
concealed  his  small,  sharp,  black  eye. 
His  thin  lips,  absolutely  colorless,  were 
hardly  distinguishable  from  the  wan  hue 
of  his  lean  visage,  with  its  pointed  nose 
and  chin ;  and  this  livid  mask  (deprived 
as  it  were  of  lips)  appeared  only  the  more 
singular  from  its  maintaining1  a  death-like 
immobility.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  rapid 
movement  of  his  fingers,  as,  bending-  over 
the  desk,  he  scratched  along1  with  his  pen, 
M.  Rodin  might  have  been  mistaken  for 
a  corpse. 

By  the  aid  of  a  cipher  (or  secret  alpha- 
bet,) placed  before  him,  he  was  copying 
certain  passages  from  a  long  sheet  full  of 
writing,  in  a  manner  quite  unintelligible 


22S5  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

to  those  who  did  not  possess  the  key  to 
the  system.  While  the  darkness  of  the 
day  increased  the  gloom  of  the  large, 
cold,  naked-looking1  apartment,  there  was 
something1  awful  in  the  chilling  aspect  of 
this  man,  tracing  his  mysterious  charac- 
ters in  the  midst  of  profound  silence. 

The  clock  struck  eight.  The  dull  sound 
of  the  knocker  at  the  outer  door  was 
heard,  then  a  bell  tinkled  twice,  several 
doors  opened  and  shut,  and  a  new  person- 
age entered  the  chamber.  On  seeing  him, 
M.  Rodin  rose  from  the  desk,  stuck  his 
pen  between  his  teeth,  bowed  with  a  deeply 
submissive  air,  and  sat  down  again  to  his 
work  without  uttering  a  word. 

The  two  formed  a  striking  contrast  to 
one  another.  The  new  comar,  though 
really  older  than  he  seemed,  would  have 
passed  for  thirty-six  or  thirty-eight  years 
of  age  at  most.  His  figure  was  tall  and 
shapely,  and  few  could  have  encountered 
the  brightness  of  his  large  gray  eye,  bril- 
liant as  polished  steel.  His  nose,  broad 
at  the  commencement,  formed  a  well-cut 
square  at  its  termination ;  his  chin  was 
prominent,  and  the  bluish  tints  of  his 
close-shaved  beard  were  contrasted  with 
the  bright  carnation  of  his  lips,  and  the 
whiteness  of  his  fine  teeth.  When  he  took 
off  his  hat,  to  change  it  for  a  black  velvet 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  238 

cap  which  he  found  on  the  small  table,  he 
displayed  a  quantity  of  light  chestnut 
hair,  not  yet  silvered  by  time.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  long-  frock-coat,  buttoned  up 
to  the  neck  in  military  fashion. 

The  piercing  glance  and  broad  forehead 
of  this  man  revealed  a  powerful  intellect, 
even  as  the  development  of  his  chest  and 
shoulders  announced  a  vigorous  physical 
organization ;  while  his  gentlemanly  ap- 
pearance, the  perfection  of  his  gloves  and 
boots,  the  light  perfume  which  hung  about 
his  hair  and  person,  the  grace  and  ease 
of  his  least  movements,  betrayed  what  is 
called  the  man  of  the  world,  and  left  the 
impression  that  he  had  sought  or  might 
still  seek  every  kind  of  success,  from  the 
most  frivolous  to  the  most  serious.  This 
rare  combination  of  strength  of  mind, 
strength  of  body,  and  extreme  elegance 
of  manners,  was  in  this  instance  rendered 
still  more  striking  by  the  circumstance, 
that  whatever  there  might  be  of  haughti- 
ness or  command  in  the  upper  part  of  that 
energetic  countenance  was  softened  down 
and  tempered  by  a  constant  but  not  uni- 
form smile — for,  as  occasion  served,  this 
smile  became  either  kind  or  sly,  cordial  or 
gay,  discreet  or  prepossessing,  and  thus 
augmented  the  insinuating  charm  of  this 
man,  who,  once  seen,  was  never  again 


224  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

forgotten.  But,  in  yielding:  to  this  invol- 
untary sympathy,  the  doubt  occurred  if 
the  influence  was  for  good — or  for  evil. 

M.  Rodin,  the  secretary  of  the  new 
comer,  continued  to  write. 

"  Are  there  any  letters  from  Dunkirk, 
Rodin  ?  "  inquired  his  master. 

"Post  not  yet  in." 

"  Without  being  positively  uneasy  as  to 
my  mother's  health,  since  she  was  already 
convalescent,"  resumed  the  other,  "I 
shall  only  be  quite  reassured  by  a  letter 
from  my  excellent  friend,  the  Princess  de 
Saint-Dizier.  I  shall  have  good  news  this 
morning,  I»hope." 

"It  is  to  be  desired,"  said  the  secre- 
tary, as  humble  and  submissive  as  he  was 
laconic  and  impassible. 

"Certainly  it  is  to  be  desired,"  re- 
sumed his  master  ;  "  for  one  of  the 
brightest  days  of  my  life  was  when  the 
Princess  de  Saint-Dizier  announced  to  me 
that  this  sudden  and  dangerous  illness 
had  yielded  to  the  care  and  attention  with 
which  she  surrounds  my  mother.  Had  it 
not  been  for  that,  I  must  have  gone  down 
to  her  instantly,  though  my  presence  here 
is  very  necessary." 

Then,  approaching  the  desk,  he  added  : 
"Is  the  summary  of  the  foreign  corre- 
spondence complete  ?  " 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  225 

"Here  is  the  analysis." 

"The  letters  are  still  sent  under  envel- 
ope to  the  places  named,  and  are  then 
brought  here  as  I  directed  ?  " 

"  Always." 

"Read  to  me  the  notes  of  this  corre- 
spondence; if  there  are  any  letters  for 
me  to  answer,  I  will  tell- you."  And  Ro- 
din's master  begun  .to  walk  up  and  down 
the  room,  with  his  hands  crossed  behind 
his  back,  dictating-  observations  of  which 
Rodin  took  careful  note. 

The  secretar3r  turned  to  a  pretty  large 
pile  of  papers,  and  thus  begun : 

"  Don  Raymond  Olivarez  acknowledges 
from  Cadiz  receipt  of  letter  No.  19';  he 
will  conform  to  it,  and  deny  all  share  in 
the  abduction." 

"Very  well;  file  it." 

"Count  Romanoff,  of  Riga,  finds  him- 
self in  a  position  of  pecuniary  embarrass- 
ment." 

"Let  Duplessis  send  him  fifty  louis ;  I 
formerly  served  as  captain  in  his  regi- 
ment, and  he  has  since  given  us  good 
information." 

"They  have  received  at  Philadelphia 
the  last  cargo  of  Histories  of  France, 
expurgated  for  the  use  of  the  faithful ; 
they  require  some  more  of  the  same 
sort." 


336  THB  WANDKRIKQ  JEW. 

"  Take  note  of  it,  and  write  to  Duples- 
sis.  Go  on." 

"M.  Spindler  sends  from  Namur  the 
secret  report  on  M.  Ardouin." 

"To  be  examined." 

"Doctor  Van  Ostadt,  of  the  same  town, 
sends  a  confidential  note  on  the  subject 
of  Messrs.  Spindler  and  Ardouin." 

"To  be  compared.  .  Go  on." 

"  Count  Malipierri,  of  Turin,  announces 
that  the  donation  of  300,000  francs  is 
signed." 

**  Inform  Duplessis.     What  next  ?  " 

"Don  Stanislaus  has  just  quitted  the 
waters  of  Baden  with  Queen  Marie  Ernes- 
tine. "  He  informs  us  that  her  majesty 
will  receive  with  gratitude  the  promised 
advices,  and  will  answer  them  with  her 
own  hand." 

"  Make  a  note  of  it.  I  will  myself  write 
to  the  queen." 

While  Rodin  was  inscribing  a  few  re- 
marks on  the  margin  of  the  paper,  his 
master,  continuing  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  room,  found  himself  opposite  to  the 
globe  marked  with  little  red  crosses,  and 
stood  contemplating  it  for  a  moment  with 
a  pensive  air. 

Rodin  continued  :  "  In  consequence  of 
the  state  of  the  public  mind  in  certain 
parts  of  Italy,  where  sundry  agitators 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  237 

have  turned  their  eyes  in  the  direction  of 
France,  Father  Orsini  writes  from  Milan 
that  it  would  be  of  importance  to  dis- 
tribute profusely  in  that  country  some 
little  book,  in  which  the  French  would  be 
represented  as  impious  and  debauched, 
rapacious  and  bloody." 

"  The  idea  is  excellent.  We  mig-ht  turn 
to  good  account  the  excesses  committed 
by  our  troops  in  Italy  during-  the  wars  of 
the  Republic.  You  must  employ  Jacques 
Dumoulin  to  write  it.  He  is  full  of  gall, 
spite,  and  venom  ;  the  pamphlet  will  be 
scorching-.  Besides,  I  may  furnish  a  few 
notes ;  but  you  must  not  pay  Dumoulin 
till  after  the  delivery  of  the  manuscript." 

"  That  is  well  understood  ;  for,  if  we 
were  to  pay  him  beforehand,  he  would  be 
drunk  for  a  week  in  some  low  den.  It 
was  thus  we  had  to  pay  him  twice  over 
for  his  virulent  attack  on  the  pantheistic 
tendencies  of  Professor  Martin's  philoso- 
phy." 

''Take  note  of  it — and  g-o  on." 

"The  merchant  announces  that  the 
clerk  is  about  to  send  the  banker  to  give 
in  his  accounts.  You  understand  ? " 
added  Rodin,  after  pronouncing-  these 
words  with  a  marked  emphasis. 

"Perfectly,"    said    the    other,   with  a 


238  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

start ;  "  they    are    but    the    expressions 
agreed  on.     What  next  ?  " 

"But  the  clerk,"  continued  the  secre- 
tary, "  is  restrained  by  a  last  scruple." 

After  a  moment's  silence,  during-  which 
the  features  of  Rodin's  master  worked 
strongly,  he  thus  resumed  :  "They  must 
continue  to  act  on  the  clerk's  mind  by  si- 
lence and  solitude  ;  then,  let  him  read  once 
more  the  list  of  cases  in  which  regicide  is 
authorized  and  absolved.  Goon  !  " 

"  The  woman  Sydney  writes  from  Dres- 
den that  she  waits  for  instructions.  Vio- 
lent scenes  of  jealousy  on  her  account 
have  again  taken  place  between  the 
father  and  son  ;  but  neither  from  these 
new  bursts  of  mutual  hatred,  nor  from 
the  confidential  communications  which 
each  has  made  to  her  against  his  rival, 
has  she  yet  been  able  to  glean  the  in- 
formation required.  Hitherto,  she  has 
avoided  giving  the  preference  to  one  or 
the  other;  but,  should  this  situation  be 
prolonged,  she  fears  it  may  rouse  their"5 
suspicions.  Which  ought  she  then  to 
choose — the  father  or  the  son  ?  " 

"  The  son — for  jealous  resentment  will 
be  much  more  violent  and  cruel  in  the  old 
man,  and,  to  revenge  himself  for  the  pref- 
erence bestowed  upon  his  son,  he  will 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  989 

perhaps  tell  what  they  have  both  such  an 
interest  to  conceal.  The  next  ?  " 

"Within  the  last  three  years  two  maid 
servants  of  Ambrosius,  whom  we  placed 
in  that  little  parish  in  the  mountains  of 
the  Valais,  have  disappeared,  without 
any  one  knowing-  what  has  become  of 
them.  A  third  has  just  met  with  the 
same  fate.  The  Protestants  of  the  coun- 
try are  roused  —  talk  of  murder  with 
frightful  attendant  circumstances — " 

"  Until  there  is  proof  positive  and  com- 
plete of  the  fact,  Ambrosius  must  be 
defended  against  these  infamous  calum- 
nies, the  work  of  a  party  that  never 
shrinks  from  monstrous  inventions.  Go 
on!" 

"  Thompson,  of  Liverpool,  has  at  length 
succeeded  in  procuring  for  Justin  the  place 
of  agent  or  manager  to  Lord  Stewart,  a 
rich  Irish  Catholic,  whose  head  grows 
daily  weaker." 

"  Let  the  fact  be  at  once  verified,  and 
Thompson  shall  have  a  premium  of  fifty 
louis.  Make  a  note  of  it  for  Duplessis. 
Proceed." 

"Frantz  Dichstein,  of  Vienna,"  re- 
sumed Rodin,  "  announces  that  his  father 
has  just  died  of  the  cholera,  in  a  little  vil- 
lage at  some  leagues  from  that  city  ;  for 
the  epidemic  continues  to  advance,  com- 


330  THE  WANDKHING  JEW. 

ing-  from  the  north  of  Russia  by  way  of 
Polnnd." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Rodin's  master,  in- 
terrupting- him  ;  "may  its  terrible  march, 
be  stayed,  and  France  be  spared." 

"Frantz  Dichstein,"  resumed  Rodin, 
"says  that  his  two  brothers  are  deter- 
mined to  contest  the  donation  made  by 
his  father,  but  that  he  is  of  an  opposite 
opinion." 

"  Consult  the  two  persons  that  are 
charged  with  all  matters  of  litigation. 
What  next  ?  " 

••  The  Cardinal  Prince  d'Amalfi  will 
conform  to  the  three  first  points  of  the 
proposal ;  he  demands  to  make  a  reserva- 
tion upon  the  fourth  point." 

"  No  reserve  ! — Either  full  and  absolute 
acceptance — or  else  war — and  (mark  me 
well !)  war  without  mercy — on  him  and 
his  creatures.  Go  on  !  " 

"  Fra  Paolo  announces  that  the  Prince 
Boccari,  chief  of  a  redoubtable  secret  so- 
ciety, in  despair  at  seeing  his  friends 
accuse  him  of  treachery,  in  consequence 
of  suspicions  excited  in  their  minds  by  Fra 
Paolo  himself,  has  committed  suicide." 

"Boccari!  is  it  possible?"  cried  Ro- 
din's master.  "  Boccari !  the  patriot 
Boccari !  so  dangerous  a  person  ! " 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  281 

"The  patriot  Boccari,"  repeated  the 
impassible  secretary. 

"Tell  Duplessis  to  send  an  order  for 
five-and-twenty  louis  to  Fra  Paolo.  Make 
a  note  of  it." 

"Hausman  informs  us  that  the  French 
dancer,  Albertine  Ducornet,  is  the  mis- 
tress of  the  reigning  prince  ;  she  has  the 
most  complete  influence  over  him,  and  it 
would  be  easy  -through  her  means  to  ar- 
rive at  the  end  proposed,  but  that  she  is 
herself  governed  by  her  lover  (condemned 
in  France  as  a  forger),  and  that  she  does 
nothing  without  consulting  him." 

"  Let  Hausman  get  hold  of  this  man — 
if  his  claims  are  reasonable,  accede  to 
them — and  learn  if  the  girl  has  any  re- 
lations in  Paris." 

"The  Duke  d'Orbano  announces  that 
the  king  his  master  will  authorize  the  new 
establishment,  but  on  the  conditions  pre- 
viously stated." 

"  No  conditions  —  either  a  frank  ad- 
hesion or  a  positive  refusal.  Let  us  know 
our  friends  from  our  enemies.  The  more 
unfavorable  the  circumstances,  the  more 
we  must  show  firmness,  and  overbear  op- 
position by  confidence  in  ourselves." 

"  The  same  also  announces  that  the 
whole  of  the  corps  diplomatique  continues 
to  support  the  claims  of  the  father  of  that 


333  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

young-  Protestant  girl  who  refuses  to  quit 
the  convent  where  she  has  taken  refuge, 
unless  it  be  to  marry  her  lover  ag-ainst  her 
father's  will." 

"  Ah  !  the  corps  diplomatique  continues 
to  remonstrate  in  the  father's  name?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then,  continue  to  answer  that  the 
spiritual  power  has  nothing-  to  do  with 
the  temporal." 

At  this  moment,  the  bell  of  the  outer 
door  again  sounded  twice. 

"See  who  it  is,"  said  Rodin's  master ; 
and  the  secretary  rose  and  left  the  room. 
The  other  continued  to  walk  thoug-htfully 
up  and  down,  till,  coming-  near  to  the  hug-e 
g-lobe,  he  stopped  short  before  it. 

For  some  time  he  contemplated,  in  pro- 
found silence,  the  innumerable  little  red 
crosses,  which  appeared  to  cover,  as  with 
an  immense  net,  all  the  countries  of  the 
earth.  Reflecting-  doubtless  on  the  invisi- 
ble action  of  his  power,  which  seemed  to 
extend  over  the  whole  world,  the  features 
of  this  man  became 'animated,  his  larg-e 
gray  eye  sparkled,  his  nostrils  swelled, 
and  his  manly  countenance  assumed  an 
indescribable  expression  of  pride,  energy, 
and  daring-.  With  haug-hty  brow  and 
scornful  lip,  he  drew  still  nearer  to  the 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  288 

globe,  and  leaned  his  strong  hand  upon 
the  pole. 

This  powerful  pressure,  an  imperious 
movement,  as  of  one  taking-  possession, 
seemed  to  indicate  that  he  felt  sure  of 
governing  this  globe,  on  which  he  looked 
down  from  the  height  of  his  tall  figure, 
and  on  which  he  rested  his  hand  with  so 
lofty  and  audacious  an  air  of  sovereignty. 

But  now  he  no  longer  smiled.  His  eye 
threatened,  and  his  large  forehead  was 
clad  with  a  formidable  scowl.  The  artist, 
who  had  wished  to  paint  the  demon  of 
craft  and  pride,  the  infernal  genius  of  in- 
satiable domination,  could  not  have  chosen 
a  more  suitable  model. 

When  Rodin  returned,  the  face  of  his 
master  had  recovered  its  ordinary  expres- 
sion. "It  is  the  postman,"  said  Rodin, 
showing  the  letters  which  he  held  in  his 
hand  ;  "there  is  nothing  from  Dunkirk." 

"Nothing-  ?  "  cried  his  master — and  his 
painful  emotion  formed  a  strange  contrast 
to  his  late  haughty  and  implacable  expres- 
sion of  countenance — "  nothing?  no  news 
of  my  mother?  Thirty-six  hours  more, 
then,  of  anxiety." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  that,  if  the  princess 
had  bad  news  to  give,  she  would  have 
written.  Probably  the  improvement  goes 
on." 


234  THB  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  You  are  doubtless  rig-lit,  Rodin — but 
no  matter — I  am  far  from  easy.  If,  to- 
morrow, the  news  should  not  be  com- 
pletely satisfactory,  I  set  out  for  the 
estate  of  the  princess.  Why  would  my 
mother  pass  the  autumn  in  that  part  of 
the  country?  The  environs  of  Dunkirk 
do  not,  I  fear,  agree  with  her." 

After  a  few  moments'  silence,  he  added, 
as  he  continued  to  walk:  "Well — these 
letters — where  are  they  ?  " 

Rodin  looked  at  the  post-marks  and 
replied  :  "  Out  of  the  four,  there  are  three 
relative  to  the  great  and  important  affair 
of  the  medals." 

"  Thank  heaven  ! — provided  the  news 
be  favorable,"  cried  his  master,  with  an 
expression  of  uneasiness,  which  showed 
how  much  importance  he  attached  to  this 
affair. 

"  One  is  from  Charlestown,  and  no  doubt 
relative  to  Gabriel  the  missionary,"  an- 
swered Rodin  ;  "  this  other  from  Batavia, 
and  no  doubt  concerns  the  Indian,  Djalma. 
The  third  is  from  Leipsic,  and  will  proba- 
bly confirm  that  received  yesterday,  in 
which  the  lion-tamer,  Morok,  informed  us 
-that,  in  accordance  with  his  orders,  and 
without  his  being"  compromised  in  any  way, 
the  daughters  of  General  Simon  would  not 
be  able  to  continue  their  journey." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  286 

At  the  name  of  General  Simon,  a  cloud 
passed  over  the  features  of  Rodin's  mas- 
ter. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    ORDERS. 

"THE  principal  houses  correspond  with 
that  in  Paris ;  they  are  also  in  direct 
communication  with  the  general,  who 
resides  at  Rome.  The  correspondence 
of  the  Jesuits,  so  active,  various,  and 
organized  in  so  wonderful  a  manner, 
has  for  its  object  to  supply  the  heads 
with  all  the  information  they  can  re- 
quire. Every  day,  the  general  re- 
ceives a  host  of  reports,  which  serve 
to  check  one  another.  In  the  central 
house,  at  Rome,  are  immense  regis- 
ters, in  which  are  inscribed  the  names 
of  all  the  Jesuits,  of  their  adherents, 
and  of  all  the  considerable  persons, 
whether  friends  or  enemies,  with 
whom  they  have  any  connection.  In 
these  registers  are  reported,  without 
alteration,  hatred  or  passion,  the  facts 
relating  to  the  life  of  each  individual. 
It  is  the  most  gigantic  biographical 
collection  that  has  ever  been  formed. 
The  frailties  of  a  woman,  the  secret 
errors  of  a  statesman,  are  chronicled 


236  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

in  this  book  with  the  same  cold  im- 
partiality. Drawn  up  for  the  purpose 
of  being  useful,  these  biographies  are 
necessarily  exact.  When  the  Jesuits 
wish  to  influence  an  individual,  they 
have  but  to  turn  to  this  book,  and 
they  know  immediately  his  life,  his 
character,  his  parts,  his  faults,  his 
projects,  his  family,  his  friends,  his 
most  secret  ties.  Conceive  what  a 
superior  facility  of  action  this  im- 
mense police-register,  which  includes 
the  whole  world,  must  give  to  any 
society  !  It  is  not  lightly  that  I 
speak  of  these  registers;  I  have  my 
facts  from  a  person  who  has  seen  this 
collection,  and  who  is  perfectly  well 
acquainted  with  the  Jesuits.  Here 
then  is  matter  to  reflect  en  for  all 
those  families  who  admit  ?reely  into 
their  houses  the  members  of  a  com- 
munity that  carries  its  biographical 
researches  to  such  a  point." 
(LiBRi,  Member  of  the  Institute. 
Letters  on  the  Clergy.) 

WHEN  he  had  conquered  the  involun- 
tary emotion  which  the  name  or  remem- 
brance of  General  Simon  had  occasioned, 
Rodin's  master  said  to  the  secretary : 
"  Do  not  yet  open  the  letters  from  Leip- 
sic,  Charlestown,  and  Bataviaj  the  in- 


THE  WANDERING  JBW.  237 

formation  they  contain  will  doubtless  find 
its  place  presently.  It  will  save  our  going 
over  the  same  ground  twice." 

The  secretary  looked  •inquiringly  at  his 
master. 

The  latter  continued — "  Have  you  fin- 
ished the  note  relating  to  the  medals  ?  " 

"•  Here  it  is,"  replied  the  secretary  ;  "  I 
was  just  finishing  my  interpretation  of 
the  cipher." 

"  Read  it  to  me,  in  the  order  of  the 
facts.  You  can  append  to  it  the  news 
contained  in  those  three  letters." 

"  True,"  said  Rodin ;  "  in  that  way  the 
letters  will  find  their  right  place." 

"I  wish  to  see,"  rejoined  the  other, 
"  whether  this  note  is  clear  and  fully  ex- 
planatory ;  you  did  not  forget  that  the 
person  it  is  intended  for  ought  not  to 
know  all  ?  " 

"  I  bore  it  in  mind,  and  drew  up  the 
paper  accordingly." 

"Read,"  said  the  master. 

M.  Rodin  read  as  follows,  slowly  and 
deliberately : 

"  '  A  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  a 
French  Protestant  family,  foreseeing  the 
speedy  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes, 
went  into  voluntary  exile,  in  order  to 
avoid  the  just  and  rigorous  decrees  al- 
ready issued  against  the  members  of  the 


288  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

reformed  church — those  indomitable  foes 
of  our  holy  religion. 

"  '  Some  members  of  this  famity  sought 
refuge  in  Holland,  and  afterward  in  the 
Dutch  colonies  ;  others  in  Poland,  others 
in  Germany  ;  some  in  England,  and  some 
in  America. 

"  *  It  is  supposed  that  only  seven  de- 
scendants remain  of  this  family,  which 
underwent  strange  vicissitudes,  since  its 
present  representatives  are  found  in  all 
ranks  of  society,  from  the  sovereign  to 
the  mechanic. 

"  <  These  descendants,  direct  or  indirect, 
are  : 

"  '  On  the  mother's  side — 

"  '  Rose  and  Blanche  Simon — minors. 

" '  General  Simon,  married,  at  War- 
saw, a  descendant  of  the  said  family. 

"  '  Francois  Hard3r,  manufacturer  at 
Plessis,  near  Paris. 

"  Prince  Djalma,  son  of  Kadja-sing, 
King  of  Mondi. 

"  '  Kadja-sing  married,  in  1802,  a  de- 
scendant of  the  said  family,  then  settled 
at  Batavia,  in  the  Island  of  Java,  a  Dutch 
colony. 

"  '  On  the  father's  side — 

"  '  Jacques  Rennepont,  surnamed  Sleep- 
inbuff,  mechanic. 

*' '  Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  daughter  of 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  389 

the  Count  of  Rennepont,  Duke  at  Cardo- 
ville. 

"'Gabriel  Rennepont,  priest  of  the 
foreign  missions. 

"  '  All  the  members  of  this  family  pos- 
sess, or  should  possess,  a  bronze  medal 
bearing-  the  following  inscriptions  : 


VICTIM 

of 

L.  C.  D.  J. 
Pray  for  me 


February  the  13th,  1682. 


AT  PARIS, 

Rue  St.  Francois,  No.  3, 

In  a  century  and  a  half 

vou  will  be. 


February  the  13th,  1833. 
PARIS. 


PRAY  FOR  ME  1 


"  *  These  words  and  dates  show  that  all 
of  them  have  a  great  interest  to  be  at 
Paris  on  the  13th  of  February,  1832  ;  and 
that,  not  by  proxy,  but  in  person,  whether 
they  are  minors,  married  or  single. 

"  '  But  other  persons  have  an  immense 
interest  that  none  of  the  descendants  of 
this  family  be  at  Paris  on  the  13th  of 
February,  except  Gabriel  Rennepont, 
priest  of  the  foreign  missions. 

"'At  all  hazards,  therefore,  Gabriel 
must  be  the  only  person  present  at  the 
appointment  made  with  the  descendants 
of  this  family,  a  century  and  a  half  ago. 

"'To    prevent,   the   other   six    persons 

from  reaching-  Paris  on  the  said  day,  or 

to  render  their  presence  of  no  effect,  much 

has  been  already  done  ;  but  much  remains 

*to  be  done  to  insure  the  success  of  this 


340  THE   WANDERING   JEW. 

affair,  which  is  considered  as  the  most 
vital  and  most  important  of  the  ag-e,  on 
account  of  its  probable  results.  '  " 

"'Tisbut  too  true,"  observed  Rodin's 
master,  interrupting-  him,  and  shaking- 
his  head  pensively.  "  And,  moreover, 
that  the  consequences  of  success  are  in- 
calculable, and  there  is  no  foreseeing-  what 
may  follow  failure.  In  a  word,  it  almost 
involves  a  question  of  existence  or  non- 
existence  during-  several  years.  To  suc- 
ceed, therefore,  '  all  possible  means  must 
be  employed.  Nothing-  must  be  shunned/ 
except,  however,  that  appearances  must 
be  skillfully  maintained." 

"  I  have  written  it,"  said  Rodin,  hav- 
ing added  the  words  his  master  had  just 
dictated,  who  then  said, 

"Continue.*' 

Rodin  read  on  : 

" '  To  forward  or  secure  the  affair  in 
question,  it  is  necessary  to  give  some 
private  and  secret  particulars  respecting- 
the  seven  persons  who  represent  this 
family. 

"  '  The  truth  of  these  particulars  may 
be  relied  on.  In  case  of  need  they  mig-ht 
be  completed  in  the  most  minute  degree ; 
for,  contradictory  information  having- 
been  given,  very  lengthened  evidence  has 
been  obtained.  The  order  in  which  the* 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  241 

names  of  the  persons  stand  will  be  ob- 
served, and  events  that  have  happened 
up  to  the  present  time  will  only  be  men- 
tioned. 

"  '  NOTE,  No  1. 

" '  Rose  and  Blanche  Simon,  twin  sis- 
ters, about  fifteen  years  of  age  ;  very 
pretty,  so  much  alike,  one  might  be  taken 
for  the  other  ;  mild  and  timid  disposition, 
but  capable  of  enthusiasm.  Brought  up 
in  Siberia  by  their  mother,  a  woman  of 
strong  mind  and  deistical  sentiments,  they 
are  wholly  ignorant  of  our  holy  religion. 

" '  General  Simon,  separated  from  his 
wife  before  they  were  born,  is  not  aware, 
even  now,  that  he  has  two  daughters. 

"  '  It  was  hoped  that  their  presence  in 
Paris,  on  the  13th  of  February,  would  be 
prevented,  by  sending  their  mother  to  a 
place  of  exile  much  more  distant  than  the 
one  first  allotted  her;  but  their  mother 
dying,  the  governor  of  Siberia,  who  is 
wholly  ours,  supposing,  by  a  deplorable 
mistake,  that  the  measure  only  affected 
the  wife  of  General  Simon  personally, 
unfortunately  allowed  the  girls  to  return 
to  France,  under  the  guidance  of  an  old 
soldier. 

"  '  This  man  is  enterprising,    faithful, 
and  determined.     He  is  noted   down   as 
dangerous. 
VOL.  l—ll 


242  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

" '  The  Simon  girls  are  inoffensive.  It 
is  hoped,  on  fair  grounds,  that  they  are 
now  detained  in  the  neighborhood  of  Leip- 
sic.' : 

Rodin's  master  interrupted  him,  saying- : 

"  Now,  read  the  letter  just  received 
from  Leipsic  ;  it  may  complete  the  infor- 
mation." 

Rodin  read  it  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Excellent  news  !  The  maidens  and 
their  guide  had  succeeded  in  escaping  dur- 
ing the  night  from  the  White  Falcon 
tavern,  but  all  three  were  overtaken  and 
seized  about  a  league  from  Mockern.  They 
have  been  transferred  to  Leipsic,  where 
they  are  imprisoned  as  vagabonds ;  their 
gnide,  the  soldier,  is  accused  and  con- 
demned of  resisting  the  authorities,  and 
using-  violence  to  a  magistrate.'  ' 

"It  is  almost  certain,  then,  considering 
the  tedious  mode  of  proceeding  in  Ger- 
many (otherwise  we  would  see  to  it),  that 
the  girls  will  not  be  able  to  be  here  on  the 
13th  of  February,"  added  Rodin's  master. 
"  Append  this  to  the  note  on  the  back." 

The  secretary  obeyed,  and  indorsed 
"  An  abstract  of  Morok's  letter." 

"  It  is  written,"  he  then  added. 

"  Go  on,"  resumed  his  master. 

Rodin  continued  reading. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  243 

"'NOTE,  NO.  II. 

"  '  Francois  Hardy,  manufacturer  at 
Plessis,  near  Paris,  forty  years  old  ;  a 
steady,  rich,  intelligent,  active,  honest, 
well-informed  man,  idolized  by  his  work- 
men— thanks  to  numberless  innovations 
to  promote  their  welfare.  Never  attend- 
ing to  the  duties  of  our  holy  religion. 
Noted  down  as  a  very  dangerous  man ; 
but  the  hatred  and  envy  he  excites  among 
other  manufacturers,  especially  in  M.  le 
Baron  Tripeaud,  his  competitor,  may  eas- 
ily be  turned  against  him.  If  other  means 
of  action  on  his  account,  and  against  him, 
are  necessary,  the  evidence  may  be  con- 
sulted ;  it  is^very  voluminous.  This  man 
has  been  marked  and  watched  for  a  long 
time. 

"  '  He  has  been  so  effectually  misguided 
with  respect  to  the  medal  that  he  is  com- 
pletely deceived  as  to  the  interests  it 
represents.  He  is,  however,  constantly 
watched,  surrounded,  and  governed,  with- 
out suspecting  it;  one  of  his  dearest  friends 
deceives  him,  and  through  his  means  we 
know  his  secret  thoughts. 

"  '  NOTE,  No.  III. 

"  '  Prince  Djalma  ;  eighteen  ;  energetic 
and  generous,  haughty,  independent,  and 
wild ;  favorite  of  General  Simon,  who 


244  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

commanded  the  troops  of  his  father,  Had ja- 
sing,  in  the  struggle  maintained  by  the 
latter  against  the  English  in  India. 
Djalma  is  mentioned  only  by  way  of  re- 
minder, for  his  mother  died  young,  while 
her  parents  were  living.  They  resided  at 
Batavia.  On  the  death  of  the  latter, 
neither  Djalma  nor  the  king,  his  father, 
claimed  their  little  property.  It  is,  there- 
fore, certain  that  they  are  ignorant  of  the 
grave  interests  connected  with  the  pos- 
session of  the  medal  in  question,  which 
formed  part  of  the  property  of  Djalma's 
mother.'  " 

Rodin's  master  interrupted  him. 

"  Now  read  the  letter  from  Batavia, 
and  complete  the  information  respecting" 
Djalma." 

Rodin  read,  and  then  observed  : 

"  Good  news  again.  Joshua  van  Dael, 
merchant  at  Batavia  (he  was  educated 
in  our  Pondicherry  establishment),  learns 
from  his  correspondent  at  Calcutta  that 
the  old  Indian  king-  was  killed  in  the  last 
battle  with  the  English.  His  son,  Djalma, 
deprived  of  the  paternal  throne,  is  pro- 
visionally detained  as  a  prisoner  of  state 
in  an  Indian  fortress." 

"  We  are  at  the  end  of  October,"  said 
Rodin's  master.  "  If  Prince  Djalma  were 
to  leave  India  now,  he  could  scarcely 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  345 

reach  Paris  by  the  month  of  February." 

"Van  Dael,"  continued  Rodin,  "  re- 
grets that  he  has  not  been  able  to  prove 
his  zeal  in  this  case.  Supposing  Prince 
Djahna  set  at  liberty,  or  having1  effected 
his  escape,  it  is  certain  he  would  come  to 
Batavia  to  claim  his  inheritance  from  his 
mother,  since  he  has  nothing  else  left 
him  in  the  world.  In  that  case,  you  may 
rely  on  Van  Dael's  devotedness.  In  re- 
turn, he  solicits  very  precise  information, 
by  the  next  post,  respecting  the  fortune  of 
M.  le  Baron  Tripeaud,  banker  and  manu- 
facturer, with  whom  he  has  business  trans- 
actions." 

"  Answer  that  point  evasively.  Van 
Dael  as  yet  has  only  shown  zeal ;  com- 
plete the  information  respecting  Djalma 
from  these  new  tidings." 

Rodin  wrote. 

But  in  a  few  minutes  his  master  said  to 
him  with  a  singular  expression  : 

"  Does  not  Van  Dael  mention  General 
Simon  in  connection  with  Djalma's  im- 
prisonment and  his  father's  death  ?  " 

"  He  does  not  allude  to  him,"  said  the 
secretary,  continuing  his  task. 

Rodin's  master  was  silent,  and  paced 
the  room. 


246  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

In  a  few  moments  Rodin  said  to  him  : 
"  I  have  done  it." 
"Goon,  then." 

"  '  NOTE,  No.  IV. 

"  '  Jacques  Rennepont,  surnamed 
"  Sleepinbuff,' '  i.e.  Lie-naked,  workman 
in  Baron  Tripeaud's  factory.  This  artisan 
is  drunken,  idle,  noisy,  and  prodigal ;  he 
is  not  without  sense,  but  idleness  and  de- 
bauch have  ruined  him.  A  clever  agent, 
on  whom  we  rely,  has  become  acquainted 
with  his  mistress,  Cephyse  Soliveau,  nick- 
named the  Bacchanal  Queen.  Through 
her  means  the  agent  has  formed  such  ties 
with  him  that  he  may  even  now  be  con- 
sidered beyond  the  reach  of  the  interests 
that  ought  to  insure  his  presence  in  Paris 
on  the  13th  of  February. 

"  '  NOTE,  No.  V. 

"  '  Gabriel  Rennepont,  priest  of  foreign 
missions,  distant  relation  of  the  above, 
but  he  is  alike  ignorant  of  the  existence  of 
his  relative  and  the  relationship.  An  or- 
phan foundling,  he  was  adopted  by  Frances 
Baudoin,  the  wife  of  a  soldier  going  by 
the  name  Dagobert. 

"  '  Should  this  soldier,  contrary  to  ex- 
pectation, reach  Paris,  his  wife  would  be 
a  powerful  means  of  influencing  him.  She 


THE   WANDERING   JEW.  347 

is  an  excellent  creature,  ignorant  and 
credulous,  of  exemplary  piety,  over  whom 
we  have  long  had  unlimited  control.  She 
prevailed  on  Gabriel  to  take  orders,  not- 
withstanding his  repugnance. 

"'  Gabriel  is  flve-and-twenty  ;  disposi- 
tion as  angelic  as  his  countenance ;  rare 
and  solid  virtues :  unfortunately  he  was 
brought  up  with  his  adopted  brother, 
Agricola,  Dagobert's  son.  This  Agricola 
is  a  poet  and  workman — but  an  excellent 
workman  ;  he  is  employed  by  M.  Hardy ; 
has  imbibed  the  most  detestable  doc- 
trines ;  fond  of  his  mother ;  honest,  la- 
borious, but  without  religious  feeling. 
Marked  as  very  dangerous.  This  causes 
his  intimacy  with  Gabriel  to  be  feared. 

"'The  latter,  notwithstanding  his  ex- 
cellent qualities,  sometimes  causes  uneasi- 
ness. We  have  even  delayed  confiding  in 
him  fully.  A  false  step  might  make  him, 
too,  one  of  the  most  dangerous.  Much 
precaution  must  be  used,  then,  especially 
till  the  13th  of  February ;  since,  we  repeat 
it,  on  him,  on  his  presence  in  Paris  at  that 
time,  depend  immense  hopes,  and  equally 
important  interests. 

"'  Among  other  precautions,  we  have 
consented  to  his  taking  part  in  the  Ameri- 
can mission,  for  he  unites  with  angelic 
sweetness  of  character  a  calm  intrepidity 


248  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

and  an  adventurous  spirit  which  could 
only  be  satisfied  by  allowing  him  to  en- 
gage in  the  perilous  existence  of  the 
missionaries.  Luckity,  his  superiors  at 
Charlestown  have  received  the  strictest 
orders  not  to  endanger,  on  any  account, 
so  precious  a  life.  They  are  to  send  him 
to  Paris,  at  least  a  month  or  two  before 
February  the  13th.'" 

Rodin's  master  again  interrupted  him, 
and  said  :  "  Read  the  letter  from  Charles- 
town,  and  see  what  it  tells  you,  in  order  to 
complete  the  information  upon  this  point 
also." 

When  he  had  read  the  letter,  Rodin 
•went  on:  "Gabriel  is  expected  every 
day  from  the  Rocky  Mountains,  whither 
he  had  absolutely  insisted  on  going  alone 
upon  a  mission." 

"  What  imprudence '!'" 

"  He  has  no  doubt  escaped  all  danger, 
as  he  himself  announces  his  speedy  return 
to  Charlestown.  As  soon  as  he  arrives, 
which  cannot  (they  write)  be  later  than 
the  middle  of  this  month,  he  will  be 
shipped  off  for  France." 

"Add  this  to  the  note  which  concerns 
him,"  said  Rodin's  master. 

"It  is  written,"  replied  the  secretary, 
a  few  moments  later. 

"  Proceed,  then,"  said  his  master.  Ro- 
din continued  : 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  249 

"  '  NOTE,  No.  VI. 

"  'ADRIENNE  RENNEPONT  DE  CARDOVILLE. 

"  '  Distantly  related  (without  knowing- 
it)  to  Jacques  Rennepont,  alias  Sleepin- 
buff,  and  Gabriel  Rennepont,  missionary 
priest.  She  will  soon  be  twenty-one  years 
of  age.  the  most  attractive  person  in  the 
world — extraordinar}'  beauty,  though  red- 
haired — a  mind  remarkable  for  its  origi- 
nality— immense  fortune — all  the  animal 
instincts.  The  incredible  independence  of 
her  character  makes  one  tremble  for  the 
future  fate  of  this  young  person.  Happily, 
her  appointed  guardian,  Baron  Tripeaud 
(a  baron  of  1819  creation,  formerly  agent 
to  the  late  Count  of  Rennepont,  Duke  of 
Cardoville),  is  quite  in  the  interest,  and 
almost  in  the  dependence  of  the  young 
lady's  aunt.  We  count,  with  reason, 
upon  this  worthy  and  respectable  rela- 
tive, and  on  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  to  op- 
pose and  repress  the  singular,  unheard- 
of  designs  which  this  young  person,  as 
resolute  as  independent,  does  not  fear 
to  avow — and  which,  unfortunately,  can- 
not be  turned  to  account  in  the  interest 
of  the  affair  in  question — for — ' ' 

Rodin  was  here  interrupted  by  two  dis- 
creet  taps  at  the  door.     The  secretary 


250  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

rose,  went  to  see  who  knocked,  remained 
a  moment  without,  and  then  returned 
with  two  letters  in  his  hand,  saying : 
"  The  princess  has  profited  by  the  de- 
parture of  a  courier  to — " 

"  Give  me  the  letter  !  "  cried  his  mas- 
ter, without  leaving  Mm  time  to  finish. 
"At  length,"  he  added,  "I  shall  have 
news  of  my  mother  !  " 

He  had  scarcely  read  the  first  few  lines 
of  the  letter  when  he  grew  deadly  pale, 
and  his  features  took  an  expression  of 
painful  astonishment  and  poignant  grief. 
"My  mother!"  he  cried,  "oh,  heavens! 
my  mother ! " 

"What  misfortune  has  happened?" 
asked  Rodin,  with  a  look  of  alarm,  as 
he  rose  at  the  exclamation  of  his  master. 

"  The  symptoms  of  improvement  were 
fallacious,"  replied  the  other,  dejectedly; 
"she  has  now  relapsed  into  a  nearly 
hopeless  state.  And  yet  the  doctor  thinks 
my  presence  might  save  her,  for  she  calls 
for  me  without  ceasing.  She  wishes  to 
see  me  for  the  last  time,  that  she  may 
die  in  peace.  Oh,  that  wish  is  sacred  ! 
Not  to  grant  it  would  be  matricide.  If 
I  can  but  arrive  in  time  !  Traveling  day 
and  night,  it  will  take  nearly  two  days." 

"Alas  !  what  a  misfortune  !  "  said  Ro- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  251 

din,  wringing-  his  hands  and  raising  his 
eyes  to  heaven. 

His  master  rang  the  bell  violently,  and 
said  to  the  old  servant  that  opened  the 
door  :  "  Just  put  what  is  indispensable 
into  the  portmanteau  of  my  traveling 
carriage.  Let  the  porter  take  a  cab'and 
go  for  post-horses  instantly.  Within  an 
hour  I  must  be  on  the  road.  Mother  ! 
mother  !  "  cried  he,  as  the  servant  de- 
parted in  haste.  "  Not  to  see  her  again 
— oh,  it  would  be  frightful !  "  And  sink- 
ing upon  a  chair,  overwhelmed  with  sor- 
row, he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

This  great  grief  was  sincere — he  loved 
tenderly  his  mother ;  that  divine  senti- 
ment had  accompanied  him,  unalterable 
and  pure,  through  all  the  phases  of  a 
too  often  guilty  life. 

After  a  few  minutes,  Rodin  ventured 
to  say  to  his  master,  as  he  showed  him 
the  second  letter:  "This,  also,  has  just 
been  brought  from  M.  Duplessis.  It  is 
very  important — very  pressing — " 

"  See  what  it  is,  and  answer  it.  I  have 
no  head  for  business." 

"  The  letter  is  confidential,"  said  Rodin, 
presenting  it  to  his  master.  "  I  dare  not 
open  it,  as  you  may  see  by  the  mark  on 
the  cover."  . 

At  sight  of  this  mark,  the  countenance 


253  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

of  Rodin's  master  assumed  an  indefinable 
expression  of  respect  and  fear.  With  a 
trembling1  hand  he  broke  the  seal.  The 
note  contained  only  the  following  words : 
"  Leave  all  business,  and,  without  losing 
a  minute,  set  out  and  come.  M.  Duplessis 
will  replace  you.  He  has  orders." 

"  Great  God  ! "  cried  this  man  in  de- 
spair. "  Set  out  before  I  have  seen  my 
mother  !  It  is  frightful,  impossible — it 
would  perhaps  kill  her — yes,  it  would  be 
matricide  ! " 

While  he  uttered  these  words,  his  eyes 
rested  on  the  huge  globe,  marked  with 
red  crosses.  A  sudden  revolution  seemed 
to  take  place  within  him  ;  he  appeared  to 
repent  of  the  violence  of  his  regrets ;  his 
face,  though  still  sad,  became  once  more 
calm  and  grave.  He  handed  the  fatal 
letter  to  his  secretary,  and  said  to  him, 
while  he  stifled  a  sigh  :  "  To  be  classed 
under  its  proper  number." 

Rodin  took  Jbhe  letter,  wrote  a  number 
upon  it,  and  placed  it  in  a  particular  box. 
After  a  moment's  silence,  his  master  re- 
sumed :  "You  will  take  orders  from 
M.  Duplessis,  and  work  with  him.  You 
will  deliver  to  him  the  note  on  the  affair 
of  the  medals ;  he  knows  to  whom  to 
address  it.  You  will  write  to  Batavia, 
Leipsic,  and  Charlestown,  in  the  sense 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  35-3 

agreed.  Prevent,  at  any  price,  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon  from  quit- 
ting- Leipsic  ;  hasten  the  arrival  of 
Gabriel  in  Paris;  and  should  Prince 
Djalma  come  to  Batavia,  tell  M.  Joshua 
van  Dael  that  we  count  on  his  zeal  and 
obedience  to  keep  him  there." 

And  this  man,  who,  while  his  dying 
mother  called  to  him  in  vain,  could  thus 
preserve  his  presence  of  mind,  entered  his 
own  apartments  while  Rodin  busied  him- 
self with  the  answers  he  had  been  ordered 
to  write,  and  transcribed  them  in  cipher. 
In  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  the 
bells  of  the  post-horses  were  heard  jingling 
without.  The  old  servant  again  entered, 
after  discreetly  knocking  at  the  door,  and 
said  :  "  The  carriage  is  ready. " 

Rodin  nodded,  and  the  servant  with- 
drew. The  secretary,  in  his  turn,  went  to 
knock  at  the  door  of  the  inner  room.  His 
master  appeared  still  grave  and  cold,  but 
fearfully  pale,  and  holding  a  letter  in  his 
hand. 

"This  for  my  mother,"  said  he  to  Ro- 
din; "you  will  send  a  courier  on  the 
instant." 

•'On  the  instant,"  replied  the  secre- 
tary. 

"  Let  the  three  letters  for  Leipsic,  Ba- 
tavia, and  Charlestown  leave  to-day  by 


254  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

the  ordinary  channel.  They  are  of  the  last 
importance.  You  know  it." 

Those  were  his  last  words.  Executing 
merciless  orders  with  a  merciless  obedience 
he  departed  without  even  attempting-  to 
see  his  mother.  His  secretary  accompa- 
nied him  respectfully  to  his  carriage. 

"  What  road,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  postilion, 
turning  round  on  his  saddle. 

"  The  road  to  ITALY  !  "  answered  Ro- 
din's master,  with  so  deep  a  sigh  that  it 
almost  resembled  a  sob. 

As  the  horses  started  at  full  gallop, 
Rodin  made  a  low  bow  ;  then  he  returned 
to  the  large,  cold,  bare  apartment.  The 
attitude,  countenance,  and  gait  of  this 
personage  seemed  to  have  undergone  a 
sudden  change.  He  appeared  to  have  in- 
creased in  dimensions.  He  was  no  longer 
an  automaton,  moved  by  the  mechanism 
of  humble  obedience.  His  features,  till 
now  impassible,  his  glance,  hitherto  sub- 
dued, became  suddenly  animated  with  an 
expression  of  diabolical  craft ;  a  sardonic 
smile  curled  his  thin,  pale  lips,  and  a  look 
of  grim  satisfaction  relaxed  his  cadaverous 
face. 

In  turn,  he  stopped  before  the  huge 
globe.  In  turn,  he  contemplated  it  in 
silence,  even  as  his  master  had  done. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  255 

Then,  bending  over  it,  and  embracing-  it, 
as  it  were,  in  his  arms,  he  gloated  with  his 
reptile  eye  on  it  for  some  moments,  drew 
his  coarse  finger  along  its  polished  surface, 
and  tapped  his  flat,  dirty  nail  on  three  of 
the  places  dotted  with  red  crosses.  And, 
while  he  thus  pointed  to  three  towns,  in 
very  different  parts  of  the  world,  he  named 
them  aloud,  with  a  sneer,  "Leipsic— 
Charlestown — Batavia." 

"In  each  of  these  three  places,"  he 
added,  "  distant  as  they  are  from  one  an- 
other, there  exist  persons  who  little  think 
that  here,  in  this  obscure  street,  from  the 
recesses  of  this  chamber,  wakeful  eyes  are 
upon  them — that  all  their  movements  are 
followed,  all  their  actions  known — and 
that  hence  will  issue  new  instructions, 
which  deeply  concern  them,  and  which  will 
be  inexorably  executed  ;  for  an  interest  is 
at  stake,  which  may  have  a  powerful  in- 
fluence on  Europe — on  the  world.  Luckity, 
we  have  friends  at  Leipsic,  Charlestown, 
and  Batavia." 

This  funny,  old,  sordid,  ill-dressed  man, 
with  his  livid  and  death-like  countenance, 
thus  crawling  over  the  sphere  before  him, 
appeard  still  more  awful  than  his  master, 
when  the  latter,  erect  and  haughty,  had 
imperiously  laid  his  hand  upon  that  globe, 
which  he  seemed  desirous  of  subjecting  by 


256  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  strength  of  his  pride  and  courage 
The  one  resembled  the  eagle,  that  hovers 
above  his  prey — the  other  the  reptile,  that 
envelops  its  victim  in  its  inextricable  folds. 
After  some  minutes,  Rodin  approached 
his  desk,  rubbing  his  hands  briskly  to- 
gether, and  wrote  the  following  epistle  in 
a  cipher  unknown  even  to  his  master  : 

"PAKIS,  t  past  9A.M. 

"  He  is  gone — but  he  hesitated  ! 

"  "When  he  received  the  order,  his  dying 
mother  had  just  summoned  him  to  her. 
He  might,  they  told  him,  save  her  by  his 
presence,  and  he  exclaimed  :  '  Not  to  go 
to  my  mother  would  be  matricide  ! ' 

"  Still  he  is  gone — but  he  hesitated.  I 
keep  my  eye  upon  him  continually.  These 
lines  will  reach  Rome  at  the  same  time  as 
himself. 

"  P.S.— Tell  the  Cardinal-Prince  that  he 
may  rely  on  me,  but  I  hope  for  his  active 
aid  in  return." 

,jt 

When  he  had  folded  and  sealed  this 
letter,  Rodin  put  it  into  his  pocket.  The 
clock  struck  ten,  M.  Rodin's  hour  for 
breakfast.  He  arranged  and  locked  up 
his  papers  in  a  drawer,  of  which  lie  carried 
away  the  key,  brushed  his  old  greasy  hat 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  257 

with  his  sleeve,  took  a  patched  umbrella 
in  his  hand,  and  went  out.* 

While  these  two  men,  in  the  depths  of 
their  obscure  retreat,  were  thus  framing 
a  plot,  which  was  to  involve  the  seven 
descendants  of  a  race  formerly  proscribed 
— a  strange,  mysterious  defender  was 
planning  how  to  protect  this  family,  which 
was  also  his  own. 


*  Having  cited  the  excellent,  courageous  letters 
of  M.  Libri,  and  the  curious  work  edited  by  M. 
Paulin,  it  is  our  duty  likewise  to  mention  many 
bold  and  conscientious  writings  on  the  subject  of 
the  "  Society  of  Jesus,"  recently  published  by  the 
Elder  Dupin,  Michelet,  Quinet,  Genin,  and  the 
Count  de  Saint  Priest — works  of  high  and  im- 
partial intellects,  in  which  the  fatal  theories  of 
the  order  are  admirably  exposed  and  condemned. 
We  esteem  ourselves  happy  if  we  can  bring  one 
stone  toward  the  erection  of  the  strong,  and,  we 
hope,  durable  embankment  which  these  generous 
hearts  and  noble  minds  are  raising  against  the 
encroachments  of  an  impure,  and  always  menac- 
ing, flood.— E.  S. 


258  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


INVERVAL. 

THE    WANDERING  JEW'S  SENTENCE. 

THE  site  is  wild  and  rugged.  It  is  a 
lofty  eminence  covered  with  huge  bowlders 
of  sandstone,  between  which  rise  birch 
trees  and  oaks,  their  foliage  already 
yellowed  by  autumn.  These  tall  trees 
stand  out  from  the  background  of  red 
light,  which  the  sun  has  left  in  the  west, 
resembling  the  reflection  of  a  great  fire. 

From  this  eminence  the  eye  looks  down 
into  a  deep  valley,  shady,  fertile,  and  half- 
veiled  in  light  vapor  by  the  evening  mist. 
The  rich  meadows,  the  tufts  of  bushy  trees, 
the  fields  from  which  the  ripe  corn  has 
been  gathered  in,  all  blend  together  in  one 
dark,  uniform  tint  which  contrasts  with 
the  limpid  azure  of  the  heavens.  Steeples 
of  gray  stone  or  slate  lift  their  pointed 
spires?  at  intervals,  from  the  midst  of  this 
valley-;  for  many  villages  are  spread 
about  it,  bordering  a  high  road  which  leads 
from  the  north  to  the  west. 

It  is  the  hour  of  repose — the  hour  when, 
for  the  most  part,  every  cottage  window 
brightens  to  the  joyous  crackling  of  the 
rustic  hearth,  and  shines  afar  through 
shade  and  foliage,  while  clouds  of  smoke 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  259 

issue  from  the  chimneys,  and  curl  up 
slowly  toward  the  sky.  But  now,  strange 
to  say,  every  hearth  in  the  country  seems 
cold  and  deserted.  Stranger  and  more 
fatal  still,  every  steeple  rings  out  a  fun- 
eral knell.  Whatever  there  is  of  activity, 
movement,  or  life,  appears  concentrated 
in  that  lugubrious  and  far-sounding  vibra- 
tion. 

Lights-begin  to  show  themselves  in  the 
dark  villages,  but  they  rise  not  from  the 
cheerful  and  pleasant  rustic  hearth.  They 
are  as  red  as  the  fires  of  the  herdsmen, 
seen  at  night  through  the  midst  of  the  fog. 
And  then  these  lights  do  not  remain  mo- 
tionless. They  creep  slowly  toward  the 
churchyard  of  every  village.  Louder 
sounds  the  death  knelL,  the  air  trembles 
beneath  the  strokes  of  so  many  bells,  and, 
at  rare  intervals,  the  funeral  chant  rises 
faintly  to  the  summit  of  the  hill. 

Why  so  many  interments  ?  What  val- 
ley of  desolation  is  this,  where  the  peace- 
ful songs  which  follow  the  hard  labors  of 
the  day  are  replaced  by  the  death-dirge  ? 
— where  the  repose  of  evening  is  ex- 
changed for  the  repose  of  eternity  ? 
What  is  this  valley  of  the  shadow,  where 
every  village  mourns  for  its  many  dead, 
and  buries  them  at  the  same  hour  of  the 
same  night  ? 


260  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Alas !  the  deaths  are  so  sudden  and 
numerous  and  frightful  that  there  is  hard- 
ly time  to  bury  the  dead.  During  day  the 
survivors  are  chained  to  the  earth  by 
hard  but  necessary  toil ;  and  only  in  the 
evening,  when  they  return  from  the  fields, 
are  they  able,  though  sinking  with  fatigue, 
to  dig  those  other  furrows,  in  which  their 
brethren  are  to  lie  heaped  like  grains  of 
corn. 

And  this  valley  is  not  the  only  one  that 
has  seen  the  desolation.  During  a  series 
of  fatal  years,  many  villages,  many  towns, 
many  cities,  many  great  countries,  have 
seen,  like  this  valley,  their  hearths  de- 
serted and  cold — have  seen,  like  this  val- 
ley, mourning  take  the  place  of  joy,  and 
the  death  knell  substituted  for  the  noise 
of  festival — have  wept  in-  the  same  day 
for  their  many  dead,  and  buried  them  at 
night  by  the  lurid  glare  of  torches. 

For,  during  those  fatal  years,  an  awful 
wayfarer  had  slowly  journeyed  over  the 
earth,  from  one  pole  to  the  other — from 
the  depths  of  India  and  Asia  to  the  ice  of 
Siberia — from  the  ice  of  Siberia  to  the 
borders  of  the  seas  of  France. 

This  traveler,  mysterious  as  death,  slow 
as  eternitj7,  implacable  as  fate,  terrible 
as  the  hand  of  heaven,  was  the  CHOLERA  ! 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  261 

The  tolling1  of  bells  and  the  funeral 
chants  still  rose  from  the  depths  of  the 
valley  to  the  summit  of  the  hill,  like  the 
complaining-  of  a  mighty  voice  ;  the  glare 
of  the  funeral  torches  was  still  seen  afar 
through  the  mist  of  evening ;  it  Avas  the 
hoar  of  twilight — that  strange  hour,  which 
gives  to  the  most  solid  forms  a  vague,  in- 
definite, fantastic  appearance — when  the 
sound  of  firm  and  regular  footsteps  was 
heard  on  the  stony  soil  of  the  rising 
ground,  and,  between  the  black  trunks  of 
the  trees,  a  man  passed  slowly  onward. 

His  figure  was  tall,  his  head  was 
bowed  upon  his  breast ;  his  countenance 
was  noble,  gentle,  and  sad ;  his  eye- 
brows, uniting  in  the  midst,  extended 
from  one  temple  to  the  other,  like  a  fatal 
mark  on  his  forehead. 

This  man  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  dis- 
tant tolling  of  so  many  funeral  bells — and 
yet  a  few  days  before,  repose  and  hap- 
piness, health  and  joy,  had  reigned  in 
those  villages  through  which  he  had 
slowly  passed,  and  which  he  now  left  be- 
hind him  mourning  and  desolate.  But  the 
traveler  continued  on  his  way,  absorbed 
in  his  own  reflections. 

"The  13th  of  February  approaches," 
thought  he;  "the  day  approaches,  in 
which  the  descendants  of  my  beloved  sis- 


262  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

ter,  the  lost  scions  of  our  race,  should 
meet  in  Paris.  Alas  !  it  is  now  a'hundred 
and  fifty  years  since,  for  the  third  time, 
persecution  scattered  this  family  over 
all  the  earth — this  family,  that  I  have 
watched  over  with  tenderness  for  eight- 
een centuries,  through  all  its  migrations 
and  exiles,  its  changes  of  religion,  fortune, 
and  name  ! 

"  Oh  !  for  this  family,  descended  from 
the  sister  of  the  poor  shoemaker,*  what 
grandeur  and  what  abasement,  what  ob- 
scurity and  what  splendor,  what  misery 
and  what  glory  !  By  how  many  crimes 
has  it  been  sullied,  by  how  many  virtues 
honored  !  The  history  of  this  single  fam- 
ily is  the  history  of  the  human  race  ! 

"  Passing,  in  the  course  of  so  many 
generations,  through  the  veins  of  the 
poor  and  the  rich,  of  the  sovereign  and 

*  It  is  known  that,  according  to  the  legend,  the 
Wandering  Jew  was  a  shoemaker  at  Jerusalem. 
The  Saviour,  carrying  his  cross,  passed  before  the 
house  of  the  artisan,  and  asked  him  to  be  allowed 
to  rest  an  instant  on  the  stone  bench  at  his  door. 
"  Go  on  !  go  on  !  "  said  the  Jew,  harshly,  push- 
ing him  away.  "  Thou  shalt  go  on  till  the  end  of 
time,"  answered  the  Saviour,  in  a  stern  though 
sorrowful  tone.  For  further  details,  see  the  elo- 
quent and  learned  notice  by  Charles  Magnin,  ap- 
pended to  the  magnificent  poem  of  "  Ahasuerus," 
by  Ed.  Quinet.— E.  S. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  ggg 

the  bandit,  of  the  wise  man  and  the  fool, 
of  the  coward  and  the  brave,  of  the  saint 
and  the  atheist,  the  blood  of  my  sister 
has  transmitted  itself  to  this  hour. 

"What  scions  of  this  family  are  now 
remaining-  ?  Seven  only. 

"  Two  orphans,  the  daughters  of  pro- 
scribed parents — a  dethroned  prince— a 
poor  missionary  priest  —  a  man  of  the 
middle  class — a  young-  g-irl  of  a  great 
name  and  large  fortune — a  mechanic. 

"  Together,  they  comprise  in  themselves 
the  virtue,  the  courage,  the  degradation, 
the  splendor,  the  miseries  of  our  species  ! 

"  Siberia  —  India  —  America — France — 
behold  the  divers  places  where  fate  has 
thrown  them  ! 

"  My  instinct  teaches  me  when  one  of 
them  is  in  peril.  Then,  from  the  North 
to  the  South,  from  the  East  to  the  West, 
I  go  to  seek  them.  Yesterday  amid  the 
Polar  frosts — to-day  in  the  temperate  zone 
— to-morrow  beneath  the  fires  of  the 
tropics — but  often,  alas!  at  the  moment 
when  my  presence  might  save  them,  the 
invisible  hand  impels  me,  the  whirlwind 
carries  me  away,  and  the  voice  speaks  in 
my  ear,  *  Go  ON  !  Go  ON  ! ' 

"  Oh,  that  I  might  only  finish  my  task  ! 
— '  Go  ON  !  '—A  single  hour — only  a  single 
hour  of  repose  !— '  Go  ON  !  '—Alas !  I 


264  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

leave  those  I  love  on  the  brink  of  the 
abyss  ! — '  Go  ON  !  Go  ON  ! ' 

"  Such  is  my  punishment.  If  it  is  great, 
my  crime  was  greater  still  !  An  artisan, 
devoted  to  privations  and  misery,  my  mis- 
fortunes had  made  me  cruel. 

"  Oh,  cursed,  cursed  be  the  day,  when, 
as  I  bent  over  ray  work,  sullen  wilh  hate 
and  despair,  because,  in  spite  of  my  in- 
cessant labor,  I  and  mine  wanted  for 
everything,  the  Saviour  passed  before  my 
door. 

"  Reviled,  insulted,  covered  with  blows, 
hardly  able  to  sustain  the  weight  of  His 
heavy  cross,  He  asked  me  to  let  Him  rest 
a  moment  on  my  stone  bench.  The  sweat 
poured  from  His  forehead,  His  feet  were 
bleeding,  He  was  well  nigh  sinking  with 
fatigue,  aud  He  said  to  me  in  a  mild, 
heart-piercing  voice  :  '  I  suffer  ! '  f  And 
I  too  suffer,'  I  replied,  as  with  harsh 
anger  I  pushed  him  from  the  place :  '  I 
suffer,  and  no  one  comes  to  help  me  !  I 
find  no  pity,  and  will  give  none.  Go  on  ! 
Go  on  I '  Then,  with  a  deep  sigh  of  pain, 
He  answered,  and  spake  this  sentence  ! 
'  Verily,  thou  shalt  go  on  till  the  day  of 
thy  redemption,  for  so  wills  the  Father 
which  art  in  heaven  !  ' 

"And  so  my  punishment  began.  Too 
late  I  opened  these  eyes  to  the  light, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  265 

too  late  I  learned  repentance  and  charity, 
too  late  I  understood  those  divine  words 
of  Him  I  had  outraged,  words  which 
should  be  the  law  of  the  whole  human 
race — 'LovE  YE  ONE  ANOTHER.' 

"  In  vain  through  successive  ages, 
gathering  strength  and  eloquence  from 
those  celestial  words,  have  1  labored  to 
earn  my  pardon,  by  filling  with  commis- 
eration and  love  hearts  that  were  over- 
flowing with  envj'  and  bitterness,  by 
inspiring  many  a  soul  with  a  sacred  hor- 
ror of  oppression  and  injustice.  For  me, 
the  day  of  mercy  has  not  yet  dawned  ! 

"  And  even  as  tlie  first  man,  by  his  fall, 
devoted  his  posterity  to  misfortune,  it 
would  seem  as  if  I,  the  workman,  had 
consigned  the  whole  race  of  artisans  to 
endless  sorrows,  and  as  if  they  were  ex- 
piating my  crime  :  for  they  alone,  during 
these  eighteen  centuries,  have  not  yet 
been  delivered. 

"  For  eighteen  centuries,  the  powerful 
and  the  happ}'  of  this  world  have  said  to 
the  toiling  people  what  I  said  to  the  im- 
ploring and  suffering  Saviour:  'Go  on! 
Go  on  ! '  And  the  people,  sinking  with 
fatigue,  bearing  their  heavy  cross,  have 
answered  in  the  bitterness  of  their  grief : 
*  Oh,  for  pity's  sake  !  a  few  moments  of 
repose  j  we  are  worn  out  with  toil . ' — '  Go 

VOL.  1—12 


366  THB  WANDERING  JEW. 

on  ! ' — '  And  if  we  perish  in  our  pain,  what 
will  become  of  our  little  children  and  our 
aged  mothers  ?  ' — '  Go  on  !  Go  on  ! '  And, 
for  eighteen  centuries,  they  and  I  have 
continued  to  struggle  forward  and  to 
suffer,  and  no  charitable  voice  has  yet 
pronounced  the  word,  '  Enough  ! ' 

"  Alas  !  such  is  my  punishment.  It  is 
immense,  it  is  twofold.  I  suffer  in  the 
name  of  humanity  when  I  see  these 
wretched  multitudes  consigned  without 
respite  to  profitless  and  oppressive  toil. 
I  suffer  in  the  name  of  my  family,  when, 
poor  and  wandering,  I  am  unable  to  bring 
aid  to  the  descendants  of  my  dear  sister. 
But,  when  the  sorrow  is  above  my 
strength,  when  I  foresee  some  danger 
from  which  I  cannot  preserve  my  own, 
then  my  thoughts,  traveling  over  the 
world,  go  in  search  of  that  woman  like 
me  accursed,  that  daughter  of  a  queen, 
who  like  me,  the  son  of  a  laborer,  wan- 
ders, and  will  wander  on,  till  the  day  of 
her  redemption.* 

"  Once  in  a  century,   as    two   planets 

*  According  to  a  legend  very  little  known,  for 
which  we  are  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  M. 
Maury,  the  learned  sub-librarian  of  the  Institute, 
Herodias  was  condemned  to  wander  till  the  day 
of  judgment,  for  having  asked  for  the  death  of  St. 
John  the  Baptist. — E.  S. 


THB  WANDERING  JEW.  267 

draw  nigh  to  each  other  in  their  revolu- 
tions, I  am  permitted  to  meet  this  woman 
during-  the  dread  week  of  the  Passion. 
And  after  this  interview,  filled  with  ter- 
rible remembrances  and  boundless  griefs, 
wandering  stars  of  eternity,  we  pursue 
our  infinite  course. 

"And  this  woman,  the  only  one  upon 
earth  who,  like  me,  sees  the  end  of  every 
century,and  exclaims  :  '  What !  another?' 
this  woman  responds  to  my  thought,  from 
the  furthest  extremity  of  the  world.  She, 
who  alone  shares  my  terrible  destiny,  has 
chosen  to  share  also  the  only  interest  that 
has  consoled  me  for  so  many  ages.  Those 
descendants  of  my  dear  sister  she  too 
loves,  she  too  protects  them.  For  them 
she  journeys  likewise  from  East  to  West, 
and  from  Nortli  to  South. 

"  But  alas  !  the  invisible  hand  impels 
her,  the  whirlwind  carries  her  away,  and 
the  voice  speaks  in  her  ear  :  '  Go  on  ! ' — 
•  Oh  that  I  might  finish  my  sentence !  ' 
repeats  she  also. — 'Go  on!' — 'A.  single 
hour — only  a  single  hour  of  repose  ! ' — 
'  Go  on  !  ' — '  I  leave  those  I  love  on  the 
brink  of  the  abyss.' — '  Go  on  !  Go  on  !  ' 

While  this  man  thus  went  over  the  hill 
absorbed  in  his  thoughts,  the  light  even- 
ing breeze  increased  almost  to  a  gale,  a 


368  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

vivid  flash  streamed  across  the  sky,  and 
long-,  deep  whistlings  announced  the  com- 
ing- of  a  tempest. 

On  a  sudden  this  doomed  man,  who 
could  no  long-er  weep  or  smile,  started 
with  a  shudder.  No  physical  pain  could 
reach  him,  and  yet  he  pressed  his  hand 
hastily  to  his  heart,  as  though  he  had 
experienced  a  cruel  pang-.  "  Oh  !  "  cried 
he;  "I  feel  it.  This  hour  many  of  those 
whom  I  love — the  descendants  of  my 
dear  sister — suffer,  and  are  in  great  peril. 
Some  in  the  center  of  India — some  in 
America — some  here  in  German}7.  The 
struggle  recommences,  the  detestable 
passions  are  ag-ain  awake.  Oh,  thou  that 
hearest  me — thou,  like  myself,  wandering- 
and  accursed — Herodias  !  help  me  to  pro- 
tect them  !  May  my  invocation  reach 
thee,  in  those  American  solitudes  where 
thou  now  ling-erest — and  may  we  arrive 
in  time  !  " 

Thereon  an  extraordinary  event  hap- 
pened. Nig-ht  was  come.  The  man  made 
a  movement,  precipitately,  to  retrace  his 
steps — but  an  invisible  force  prevented 
him,  and  carried  him  forward  hi  the  op- 
posite direction. 

At  this  moment  the  storm  burst  forth 
in  its  murky  majesty.  One  of  those 


THE;  WANDERING  JEW.  269 

whirlwinds  which  tear  up  trees  "by  the 
roots,  and  shake  the  foundations  of  the 
rocks,  rushed  over  the  hill  rapid  and  loud 
as  thunder. 

In  the  midst  of  the  roaring-  of  the  hur- 
ricane, by  the  glare  of  the  fiery  flashes, 
the  man  with  the  black  mark  on  his  brow 
was  seen  descending-  the  hill,  stalking 
with  huge  strides  among-  the  rocks,  and 
between  trees  bent  beneath  the  efforts  of 
the  storm. 

The  tread  of  this  man  was  no  longer 
slow,  firm  and  steady — but  painfully  ir- 
regular, like  that  of  one  impelled  by  an 
irresistible  power,  or  carried  along  by  the 
whirl  of  a  frightful  wind.  In  vain  he  ex- 
tended his  supplicating-  hands  to  heaven. 
Soon  he  disappeared  in  the  shades  of 
night,  and  amid  the  roar  of  the  tempest. 


270  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  AJOUPA. 

WHILE  Rodin  dispatched  his  cosmopo- 
lite correspondence,  from  his  retreat  in 
the  Rue  du  Milieu  des  TJrsins,  in  Paris — 
while  the  daughters  of  General  Simon, 
after  quitting  as  fugitives  the  White  Fal- 
con, were  detained  prisoners  at  Leipsic 
along  with  Dagobert — other  scenes  deeply 
interesting  to  these  different  personages 
were  passing,  almost  as  it  were  at  the 
same  moment,  at  the  other  extremity 
of  the  world,  in  the  furthermost  parts  of 
Asia — that  is  to  say,  in  the  island  of  Java, 
not  far  from  the  city  of  Batavia,  the  resi* 
dence  of  M.  Joshua  van  Dael,  one  of  the 
correspondents  of  Rodin. 

Java  !  magnificent  and  fatal  country, 
where  the  most  admirable  flowers  conceal 
hideous  reptiles,  where  the  brightest  fruits 
contain  subtle  poisons,  where  grow  splen- 
did trees,  whose  very  shadow  is  death — 
where  the  gigantic  vampire  bat  sucks  the 
blood  of  its  victims  while  it  prolongs 
their  sleep,  by  surrounding  them  with  a 
fresh  and  balmy  air,  no  fan  moving  so 
rapidly  as  the  great  perfumed  wings  of 
this  monster  1 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  271 

The  month  of  October,  1831,  draws  near 
its  close.  It  is  noon — an  hour  well-nigh 
mortal  to  him  who  encounters  the  fiery 
heat  of  the  sun,  which  spreads  a  sheet  of 
dazzling-  light  over  the  deep  blue  enamel 
of  the  sky. 

An  ajoupa,  or  hut,  made  of  cane  mats, 
suspended  from  long  bamboos,  which  are 
driven  far  into  the  ground,  rises  in  the 
midst  of  the  bluish  shadows  cast  b37  a  tuft 
of  trees  whose  glittering  verdure  resem- 
bles green  porcelain.  These  quaintly 
formed  trees,  rounded  into  arches,  point- 
ing like  spires,  overspreading  like  parasols, 
are  so  thick  in  foliage,  so  entangled  one 
with  the  other,  that  their  dome  is  impen- 
etrable to  the  rain. 

The  soil,  ever  marshy,  notwithstanding 
the  insupportable  heat,  disappears  beneath 
an  inextricable  mass  of  creepers,  ferns, 
and  tufted  reeds,  of  a  freshness  and  vigor 
of  vegetation  almost  incredible,  reaching 
nearly  to  the  top  of  the  ajoupa,  which  lies 
hid  like  a  nest  among  the  grass. 

Nothing  can  be  more  suffocating  than 
the  atmosphere,  heavily  laden  with  moist 
exhalations  like  the  steam  of  hot  water, 
and  impregnated  with  the  strongest  and 
sharpest  scents;  for  the  cinnamon  tree, 
ginger  plant,  stephanotis  and  Cape  jas- 
mine, mixed  with  these  trees  and  creepers, 


272  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

spread  around  in  puffs  their  penetrating 
odors.  A  roof,  formed  of  large  Indian 
fig-leaves,  covers  the  cabin;  at  one  end 
is  a  square  opening-,  which  serves  for  a 
window,  shut  in  with  a  fine  lattice-work 
of  vegetable  fibers,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
reptiles  and  venomous  insects  from  creep- 
ing into  the  ajoupa.  The  huge  trunk  of  a 
dead  tree,  still  standing,  but  much  bent, 
and  with  its  summit  reaching  to  the  roof 
of  the  ajoupa,  rises  from  the  midst  of 
the  brushwood.  From  every  crevice  in 
its  black,  rugged,  mossy  bark,  springs  a 
strange,  almost  fantastic  flower ;  the  wing 
of  the  butterfly  is  not  of  a  finer  tissue,  of 
a  more  brilliant  purple,  of  a  more  glossy 
black  :  those  unknown  birds  we  see  in  our 
dreams  have  no  more  grotesque  forms 
than  these  specimens  of  the  orchis  — 
winged  flowers  that  seem  always  ready 
to  fiy  from  their  frail  and  leafless  stalks. 
The  long,  flexible  stems  of  the  cactus, 
which  might  be  taken  for  reptiles,  encir- 
cle also  this  trunk  and  clothe  it  with  their 
bunches  of  silvery  white,  shaded  inside 
with  bright  orange.  These  flowers  emit 
a  strong  scent  of  vanilla. 

A  serpent,  of  a  brick-red,  about  the 
thickness  of  a  large  quill,  and  five  or  six 
inches  long,  half  protrudes  its  flat  head 
from  one  of  those  enormous,  perfumed 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  278 

calyces,  in  which  it  lies  closely  curled  up. 

Within  the  ajoupa,  a  young  man  is  ex- 
tended on  a  mat  in  a  profound  sleep.  His 
complexion  of  a  clear  golden  yellow,  gives 
him  the  appearance  of  a  statue  of  pale 
bronze,  on  which  a  ray  of  the  sun  is  play- 
ing1. His  attitude  is  simple  and  graceful ; 
his  right  arm  sustains  his  head,  a  little 
raised  and  turned  on  one  side  ;  his  ample 
robe  of  white  muslin,  with  hanging  sleeves, 
leaves  uncovered  his  chest  and  arms 
worthy  of  the  Antinous.  Marble  is  not 
more  firm,  more  polished  than  his  skin, 
the  golden  hue  of  which  contrasts  strongly 
with  the  whiteness  of  his  garments.  Up- 
on his  broad  manly  chest  a  deep  scar  is 
visible — the  mark  of  the  musket-ball  he 
received  in  defending  the  life  of  General 
Simon,  the  father  of  Rose  and  Blanche. 
Suspended  from  his  neck,  he  wears  a 
medal  similar  to  that  in  the  possession  of 
the  two  sisters.  This  Indian  in  Djalma. 

His  features  are  at  once  very  noble  and 
very  beautiful.  His  hair  of  a  blue  black, 
parted  upon  his  forehead,  falls  waving, 
but  not  curled,  over  his  shoulders ;  while 
his  eyebrows,  boldl}--  and  yet  delicately 
defined,  are  of  as  deep  a  jet  as  the  long 
e3relashes,  that  cast  their  shadow  upon 
his  beardless  cheek.  His  bright,  red  lips 
are  slightly  apart,  and  he  breathes  un- 


874  THE  WANDERING  JBW. 

easily  ;  liis  sleep  is  heavy  and  troubled, 
for  the  heat  becomes  every  moment  more 
and  more  suffocating. 

Without,  the  silence  is  profound.  Not 
a  breath  of  air  is  stirring1.  Yet  now  the 
tall  ferns,  which  cover  the  soil,  begin  to 
move  almost  imperceptibly,  as  though 
their  stems  were  shaken  by  the  slow  prog- 
ress of  some  crawling  body.  From  time 
to  time,  this  trifling  oscillation  suddenly 
ceases,  and  all  is  again  motionless.  But, 
after  several  of  these  alternations  of  rust- 
ling and  deep  silence,  a  human  hand  ap- 
pears in  the  midst  of  the  jungle,  a  little 
distance  from  the  trunk  of  the  dead  tree. 

The  man  to  whom  it  belonged  was  pos- 
sessed of  a  grim  countenance,  with  a 
complexion  the  color  of  greenish  bronze, 
long  black  hair  bound  about  his  temples, 
eyes  brilliant  with  savage  fire,  and  an 
expression  remarkable  for  its  intelligence 
and  ferocity.  Holding  his  breath,  he  re- 
mained quite  still  for  a  moment ;  then, 
advancing  upon  his  hands  and  knees, 
pushing  aside  the  leaves  so  gently  that 
not  the  slightest  noise  could  be  heard,  he 
arrived  cautiousl}7"  and  slowly  at  the  trunk 
of  the  dead  tree,  the  summit  of  which 
nearly  touched  the  roof  of  the  ajoupa. 

This  man,  of  Malay  origin,  belonging 
to  the  sect  of  the  Lughardars  (Stran- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  275 

glers),  after  having-  again  listened,  rose 
almost  entirety  from  among1  the  brush- 
wood. With  the  exception  of  white  cotton 
drawers,  fastened  around  his  middle  by 
a  parti-colored  sash,  he  was  completely 
naked.  His  bronzed,  supple,  and  nervous 
limbs  were  overlaid  with  a  thick  coat  of 
oil.  Stretching-  himself  along  the  huge 
trunk  on  the  side  furthest  from  the  cabin, 
and  thus  sheltered  by  the  whole  breadth 
of  the  tree  with  its  surrounding  creepers, 
he  began  to  climb  silently,  with  as  much 
patience  as  caution.  In  the  undulations 
of  his  form,  in  the  flexibility  of  his  move- 
ments, in  the  restrained  vigor,  which  fully 
put  forth  would  have  been  alarming,  there 
was  some  resetrblance  to  the  stealthy  and 
treacherous  advance  of  the  tiger  upon  his 
prey.  Having  reached,  completely  unper- 
ceived,  the  inclined  portion  of  the  tree, 
which  almost  touched  the  roof  of  the 
cabin,  he  was  only  separated  from  the 
window  by  the  distance  of  about  a  foot. 
Cautiously  advancing  his  head,  he  looked 
down  into  the  interior,  to  see  how  he 
might  best  find  an  entrance. 

At  sight  of  Djalma  in  his  deep  sleep, 
the  Thug's  bright  eyes  g-littered  with  in- 
creased brilliancy;  a  nervous  contraction, 
or  rather  a  mute,  ferocious  laugh,  curling- 
the  corners  of  his  mouth,  drew  them  up 


276  THE  WANDBK1NG  JEW 

toward  the  cheek  bones,  and  exposed 
rows  of  teeth,  filed  sharp  like  the  points 
of  a  saw,  and  dyed  of  a  shining1  black. 

Djalma  was  lying1  in  such  a  manner  and 
so  near  the  door  of  the  ajpupa,  which 
opened  inward,  that,  were  it  moved  in 
the  least,  he  must  be  instantly  awakened. 
The  Strangler,  with  his  body  still  shelter- 
ed by  the  tree,  wishing  to  examine  more 
attentively  the  interior  of  the  cabin, 
leaned  very  forward,  and  in  order  to 
maintain  his  balance,  lightly  rested  his 
hand  on  the  ledge  of  the  opening  that 
served  for  a  window.  This  movement 
shook  the  large  cactus-flower,  within 
which  the  little  serpent  la3T  curled,  and, 
darting  forth,  it  twisted  itself  rapidly 
round  the  wrist  01  the  Strangler. 
Whether  from  pain  or  surprise,  the  man 
uttered  a  low  cry ;  and  as  he  drew  back 
swifthr,  still  holding  by  the  trunk  of  the 
tree,  he  perceived  that  Djalma  had  moved. 

The  young  Indian,  though  retaining  his 
supine  posture,  had  half  opened  his  eyes, 
and  turned  his  head  toward  the  window, 
while  his  breasfc  heaved  with  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh,  for,  beneath  that  thick  dome 
of  moist  verdure,  the  concentrated  heat 
was  intolerable. 

Hardly  had  he  moved,  when,  from  be- 
hind the  tree,  was  heard  the  shrill,  brief, 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  JJ77 

sonorous  note  which  the  bird  of  paradise 
utters  when  it  takes  it  flight — a  cry  which 
resembles  that  of  the  pheasant.  This 
note  was  soon  repeated,  but  more  faintly, 
as  though  the  brilliant  bird  were  already 
at  a  distance.  Djalma,  thinking-  he  had 
discovered  the  cause  of  the  noise  which 
had  aroused  him  for  an  instant,  stretched 
out  the  arm  upon  which  his  head  hud 
rested,  and  went  to  sleep  ag-ain,  with 
scarcely  any  change  of  position. 

For  some  minutes,  the  most  profound 
silence  once  more  reigned  in  this  solitude, 
and  everything-  remained  motionless. 

The  Strang-ler,  by  his  skillful  imitation 
of  the  bird,  had  repaired  the  imprudence 
of  that  exclamation  of  surprise  and  pain, 
which  the  reptile's  bite  had  forced  from 
him.  When  he  thought  all  was  safe,  he 
again  advanced  his  head,  and  saw  the 
young  Indian  once  more  plunged  in  sleep. 
Then  he  descended  the  tree  with  the  same 
precautions,  though  his  left  hand  was 
somewhat  swollen  from  the  sting  of  the 
serpent,  and  disappeared  in  the  jungle. 

At  that  instant  a  song  of  monotonous 
and  melancholy  cadence  was  heard  in  the 
distance.  The  Strangler  raised  himself, 
and  listened  attentively,  and  his  face  took 
an  expression  of  surprise  and  deadly 
anger.  The  song  came  nearer  and  nearer 


278  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

to  the  cabin,  and  in  a  few  seconds,  an  In- 
dian, passing1  through  an  open  space  in 
the  jungle,  approached  the  spot  where 
the  Thug-  lay  concealed. 

The  latter  unwound  from  his  waist  a 
long-  thin  cord,  to  one  of  the  ends  of  which 
was  attached  a  leaden  ball,  of  the  form 
and  size  of  an  egg ;  having  fastened  the 
other  end  of  this  cord  to  his  right  wrist, 
the  Strangler  again  listened,  and  then 
disappeared,  crawling-  through  the  tall 
grass  in  the  direction  of  the  Indian,  who 
still  advanced  slowly,  without  interrupt- 
ing his  soft  and  plaintive  song. 

He  was  a  young  fellow  scarcely  twenty, 
with  a  bronzed  complexion,  the  slave  of 
Djalma  ;  his  vest  of  blue  cotton  was  con- 
fined at  the  waist  by  a  parti-colored  sash; 
he  wore  a  red  turban,  and  silver  rings  in 
his  ears  and  about  his  wrists.  He  was 
bringing  a  message  to  his  master,  who, 
during  the  great  heat  of  the  day,  was  re- 
posing in  the  ajoupa,  which  stood  at  some 
distance  from  the  house  he  inhabited. 

Arriving  at  a  place  where  two  paths 
separate,  the  slave  without  hesitation 
took  that  which  led  to  the  cabin,  from 
which  he  was  now  scarce  forty  paces  dis- 
tant. 

One  of  those  enormous  Java  butterflies, 
•whose  wings  extend  six  or  eight  inches  in 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  379 

length,  and  offer  to  the  eye  two  streaks 
of  gold  on  a  ground  of  ultramarine,  flut-. 
tering  from  leaf  to  leaf,  alighted  on  a 
bush  of  Cape  jasmine,  within  the  reach 
of  the  young  Indian.  The  slave  stopped 
in  his  song,  stood  still,  advanced  firs*;  a 
foot,  then  a  hand,  and  seized  the  butter- 

fly- 

Suddenly,  he  sees  a  dark  figure  rise  be- 
fore him ;  he  hears  a  whizzing  noise  like 
that  of  a  sling;  he  feels  a  cord,  thrown 
with  as  much  rapidity  as  force,  encircle 
his  neck  with  a  triple  band  ;  and,  almost 
in  the  same  instant,  the  leaden  ball  strikes 
violently  against  the  back  of  his  head. 

This  attack  was  so  abrupt  and  unfore- 
seen that  Djalma's  servant  could  not  even 
utter  a  single  cry,  a  single  groan.  He  tot- 
tered— the  Strangler  gave  a  vigorous  pull 
at  the  cord — the  bronzed  countenance  of 
the  slave  became  purple,  and  he  fell  upon 
his  knees,  convulsively  moving  his  arms, 
Then  the  Strangler  threw  hi  in  quite  down, 
and  pulled  the  cord  so  violently  that  the 
blood  spurted  from  the  skin.  The  victim 
struggled  for  a  moment  —  and  all  was 
over. 

During  his  short  but  intense  agony, 
the  murderer,  kneeling  before  his  victim, 
and  watching  with  ardent  eye  his  least 
convulsions,  seemed  plunged  in  an  ecstasy 


280  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

of  ferocious  joy.  His  nostrils  dilated,  the 
veins  of  his  neck  and  temples  were 
swollen,  and  the  same  savage  laugh, 
which  had  curled  his  lips  at  the  aspect 
of  the  sleeping  Djalma,  again  displayed 
his  pointed  black  teeth,  which  a  nervous 
trembling  of  the  jaws  made  to  chatter. 
But  soon  he  crossed  his  arms  upon  his 
heaving  breast,  bowed  his  forehead,  and 
murmured  some  mysterious  words,  which 
sounded  like  an  invocation  or  a  prayer. 
Immediately  after,  he  returned  to  the  con- 
templation of  the  dead  body.  The  hyena 
and  the  tiger-cat,  who,  before  devouring, 
crouch  beside  the  prey  that  they  have 
surprised  or  hunted  down,  have  not  a 
wilder  or  more  sanguinary  look  than  this 
man. 

But,  remembering  that  his  task  was 
not  yet  accomplished,  tearing  himself  un- 
willingly from  the  hideous  spectacle,  he 
unbound  the  cord  from  the  neck  of  his 
victim,  fastened  it  round  his  own  bodty, 
dragged  the  corpse  out  of  the  path,  and, 
without  attempting  to  rob  it  of  its  silver 
rings,  concealed  it  in  a  thick  part  of  the 
jungle. 

Then  the  Strangler  again  began  to  creep 
on  his  knees  and  belly  till  he  arrived  at 
the  cabin  of  Djalma  —  that  cabin  con- 
structed of  mats  suspended  from  bam- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  281 

boos.  After  listening-  attentively,  he  drew 
from  his  girdle  a  knife,  the  sharp-pointed 
blade  of  which  was  wrapped  in  a  fig-leaf, 
and  made  in  the  matting-  an  incision  of 
three  feet  in  length.  This  was  done  with 
such  quickness,  and  with  so  fine  a  blade, 
that  the  light  touch  of  the  diamond  cut- 
ting glass  would  have  made  more  noise. 
Seeing,  by  means  of  this  opening,  which 
was  to  serve  him  for  a  passage,  that 
Djalma  was  still  fast  asleep,  the  Thug, 
with  incredible  temerity,  glided  into  the 
cabin. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE  TATTOOING. 

THE  heavens,  which  had  been  till  now 
of  transparent  blue,  became  gradually  of 
a  greenish  tint,  and  the  sun  was  veiled  in 
red,  lurid  vapor.  This  strange  light  gave 
to  every  object  a  weird  appearance,  of 
which  one  might  form  an  idea  by  looking 
at  a  landscape  through  a  piece  of  copper- 
colored  glass.  In  those  climates,  this 
phenomenon,  when  united  with  an  increase 
of  burning  heat,  always  announces  the 
approach  of  a  storm. 

j?rom  time  to  time  there  was  a  passing 
odor  of  sulphur ;  then  the  leaves,  slightly 
shaken  by  electric  currents,  would  tremble 


S83  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

upon  their  stalks  ;  till  again  all  would  re- 
turn to  the  former  motionless  silence. 
The  weight  of  the  burning  atmosphere, 
saturated  with  sharp  perfumes,  became 
almost  intolerable.  Large  drops  of  sweat 
stood  in  pearls  on  the  forehead  of  Djalma, 
still  plunged  in  enervating  sleep — for  it 
no  longer  resembled  rest,  but  a  painful 
stupor. 

The  Strangler  glided  like  a  reptile  along 
the  sides  of  the  ajoupa,  and,  crawling  on 
his  belly,  arrived  at  the  sleeping-mat  of 
Djalma,. beside  which  he  squatted  himself, 
so  as  to  occupy  as  little  space  as  possible. 
Then  began  a  fearful  scene,  by  reason  of 
the  mystery  and  silence  which  surround- 
ed it. 

Djalma's  life  was  at  the  mercy  of  the 
Strangler.  The  latter,  resting  upon  his 
hands  and  knees,  with  his  neck  stretched 
forward,  his  eye  fixed  and  dilated,  contin- 
ued motionless  as  a  wild  beast  about  to 
spring.  Only  a  slight,  nervous  trembling 
of  the  jaws  agitated  that  mask  of  bronze. 

But  soon  his  hideous  features  revealed  a 
violent  struggle  that  was  passing  within 
him — a  struggle  between  the  thirst,  the 
craving  for  the  enjoyment  of  murder, 
which  the  recent  assassination  of  the  slave 
had  made  still  more  active,  and  the  orders 
he  had  received  not  to  attempt  the  life  of 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  ;$83 

Djalma,  though  the  design,  which  brought 
him  to  the  ajoupa,  might  perhaps  be  as 
fatal  to  the  young  Indian  as  death  itself. 
Twice  did  the  Strangler,  with  look  of 
flame,  resting  only  on  his  left  hand,  seize 
with  his  right  the  rope's  end  ;  and  twice 
his  hand  fell — the  instinct  of  murder  yield- 
ing to  a  powerful  will,  of  which  the  Malay 
acknowledged  the  irresistible  empire. 

In  him,  the  homicidal  craving  must  have 
amounted  to  madness,  for,  in  these  hesi- 
tations, he  lost  much  precious  time  :  at 
any  moment,  Djalma,  whose  vigor,  skill, 
and  courage  were  known  and  feared, 
might  awake  from  his  sleep,  and,  though 
unarmed,  he  would  prove  a  terrible  adver- 
sary. At  length  the  Thug  made  up  his 
mind  ;  with  a  suppressed  sigh  of  regret 
he  set  about  accomplishing  his  task. 

This  task  would  have  appeared  impossi- 
ble to  any  one  else.  The  reader  may  judge. 

Djalma,  with  his  face  turned  toward 
the  left,  leaned  his  head  upon  his  curved 
arm.  It  was  first  necessary,  without  wak- 
ing him,  to  oblige  him  to  turn  his  face 
toward  the  righ.6  (that  is,  toward  the 
door),  so  that,  hi  case  of  his  being  half- 
roused,  his  first  glance  might  not  fall  upon 
the  Strangler.  The  latter,  to  accomplish 
his  projects,  would  have  to  remain  many 
minutes  in  the  cabin. 


284  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  heavens  became  darker ;  the  heat 
arrived  at  its  last  degree  of  intensity  ; 
everything-  combined  to  increase  the  torpor 
of  the  sleeper  and  so  favor  the  Strangler's 
designs.  Kneeling  down  close  to  Djalma, 
lie  began,  with  the  tips  of  his  supple,  well- 
oiled  fingers,  to  stroke  the  brow,  temples, 
and  eyelids  of  the  young1  Indian,  but  with 
such  extreme  lightness  that  the  contact 
of  the  two  skins  was  hardly  sensible. 
When  this  kind  of  magnetic  incantation 
had  lasted  for  some  seconds,  the  sweat, 
which  bathed  the  forehead  of  Djalma, 
became  more  abundant :  he  heaved  a 
smothered  sigh,  and  the  muscles  of  his 
face  gave  several  twitches,  for  the  strok- 
ings,  although  too  light  to  rouse  him, 
yet  caused  in  him  a  feeling  of  indefinable 
uneasiness. 

Watching  him  with  his  restless  and 
burning  eye,  the  Strangler  continued  his 
maneuvers  with  so  much  patience  that 
Djalma,  still  sleeping,  but  no  longer  able 
to  bear  this  vague,  anno3Ting  sensation, 
raised  his  right  hand  mechanically  to  his 
face,  as  if  he  would  have  brushed  away 
an  importunate  insect.  But  he  had  not 
strength  to  do  it;  almost  immediately 
after  his  hand,  inert  and  heavy,  fell  back 
upon  his  chest.  The  Strangler  saw,  by 
this  symptom,  that  he  was  attaining  his 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  286 

object,  and  continued  to  stroke,  with  the 
same  address,  the  eyelids,  brow,  and  tem- 
ples. 

Whereupon  Djalma,  more  and  more 
oppressed  by  heavy  sleep,  and  having 
neither  strength  nor  will  to  raise  his  hand 
to  his  face,  mechanically  turned  round  his 
head,  which  fell  languidly  upon  his  right 
shoulder,  seeking,  by  this  change  of  atti- 
tude, to  escape  from  the  disagreeable 
sensation  which  pursued  him.  The  first 
point  gained,  the  Strangler  could  act  more 
freely. 

To  render  as  profound  as  possible  the 
sleep  he  had  half  interrupted,  he  now 
strove  to  imitate  the  vampire,  and,  feign- 
ing the  action  of  a  fan,  he  rapidly  moved 
his  extended  hands  about  the  burning  face 
of  the  young  Indian.  Alive  to  a  feeling 
of  such  sudden  and  delicious  coolness,  in 
the  height  of  suffocating  heat,  the  coun- 
tenance of  Djalma  brightened,  his  bosom 
heaved,  his  half-opened  lips  drank  in  the 
grateful  air,  and  he  fell  into  a  sleep  only 
the  more  profound  because  it  had  been  at 
first  disturbed,  and  was  now  yielded  to 
under  the  influence  of  a  pleasing  sensa- 
tion. 

A  sudden  flash  of  lightning  illumined 
the  shady  dome  that  sheltered  the  ajoupa : 
fearing  that  the  first  clap  of  thunder  might 


286  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

rouse  the  young1  Indian,  the  Strangler 
hastened  to  complete  his  task.  Djalma 
lay  on  his  back,  with  his  head  resting  on 
his  right  shoulder  and  his  left  arm  ex- 
tended ;  the  Thug,  crouching  at  his  left 
side,  ceased  by  degrees  the  process  of  fan- 
ning ;  then,  with  incredible  dexterity,  he 
succeeded  in  rolling  up,  above  the  elbow, 
the  long  wide  sleeve  of  white  muslin  that 
covered  the  left  arm  of  the  sleeper. 

He  next  drew  from  the  pocket  of  his 
drawers  a  copper  box,  from  which  he  took 
a  very  fine,  sharp-pointed  needle  and  a 
piece  of  black-looking  root.  He  pricked 
this  root  several  times  with  the  needle, 
and  on  each  occasion  there  issued  from  it 
a  white  glutinous  liquid. 

When  the  Strangler  thought  the  needle 
sufficiently  impregnated  with  this  juice, 
he  bent  down,  and  began  to  blow  over  the 
inner  surface  of  Djalma's  arm,  .so  as  to 
cause  a  fresh  sensation  of  coolness  ;  then, 
with  the  point  of  his  needle,  he  traced 
almost  imperceptibly  on  the  skin  of  the 
sleeping  youth  some  mysterious  and  S3*m- 
bolical  signs.  All  this  was  performed  so 
cleverly,  and  the  point  of  the  needle  was 
so  fine  and  keen,  that  Djalma  did  not  feel 
the  action  of  the  acid  upon  his  skin. 

The  signs,  which  the  Strangler  had 
traced,  soon  appeared  on  the  surface,  at 


THB  WANDERING  JEW.  287 

first  in  characters  of  a  pale  rose-color,  as 
fine  as  a  hair ;  but  such  was  the  slowly 
corrosive  power  of  the  juice,  that,  as  it 
worked  and  spread  beneath  the  skin,  they 
would  become  in  a  few  hours  of  a  violet 
red,  and  as  apparent  as  they  were  now 
almost  invisible. 

The  Strangler,  having-  so  perfectly  suc- 
ceeded in  his  project,  threw  a  last  look  of 
ferocious  long-ing  on  the  slumbering-  In- 
dian, and  creeping-  away  from  the  mat, 
regained  the  opening  by  which  he  had  en- 
tered the  cabin  ;  next,  closely  uniting  the 
edges  of  the  incision  so  as  to  obviate  all  sus- 
picion, he  disappeared  just  as  the  thunder 
began  to  rumble  hoarsely  in  the  distance.* 

*  We  read  in  the  letters  of  the  late  Victor 
Jacquemont  upon  India,  with  regard  to  the  in- 
credible dexterity  of  these  men  :  "  They  crawl 
on  the  ground,  ditches,  in  the  furrows  of  fields, 
imitate  a  hundred  different  voices,  and  dissipate 
the  effect  of  any  accidental  noise  by  raising  the 
yelp  of  the  jackal  or  note  of  some  bird — then  are 
silent,  and  another  imitates  the  call  of  the  same 
animal  in  the  distance.  They  can  molest  a 
sleeper  by  all  sorts  of  noises  and  slight  touches, 
and  make  his  body  and  limbs  take  any  position 
which  suits  their  purpose.'"  Count  Edward  de 
Warren,  in  his  excellent  work  on  English  India, 
which  we  shall  have  again  occasion  to  quote, 
expresses  himself  in  the  same  manner  as  to  the 
inconceivable  address  of  the  Indians :  "  They 
have  the  art,"  says  he,  "  to  rob  you,  without  in- 


3Q8  THB  WANDERING  JEW. 

tempting  your  sleep,  of  the  very  sheet  in  which 
you  are  enveloped.     This  is  not  '  a  traveler's  tale,' 
but  a  fact.     The  movements  of  the  bheel  are  those 
of  a  serpent.     If  you  sleep  in  your  tent,  with 
a  servant  lying  across  each   entrance,  the  bheel 
will   come   and  crouch   on  the  outside,  in   some 
shady  corner,  where   he  can   hear  the  breathing 
of  those  within.     As  soon  as  the  European  sleeps, 
he  feels   sure  of  success,  for  the  Asiatic  will  not 
long   resist    the    attraction   of    repose.     At    the 
proper  moment,  he  makes  a  vertical  incision  in 
the  cloth  of  the  tent,  on  the  spot  where  he  hap- 
pens to  be,  and  just  large  enough  to  admit  him. 
He  glides  through  like  a  phantom,  without  mak- 
ing the  least  grain  of  sand  creak  beneath  his 
tread.     He  is  perfectly  naked,  and  all  his  body  is 
rubbed  over  with  oil ;  a  two-edged  knife  is  sus- 
pended from  his  neck.     He  will  squat  down  close 
to  your  couch,  and,  with  incredible  coolness  and 
dexterity,  will  gather  up  the  sheet  in  very  little 
folds,  so  as  to  occupy  the  least  surface  possible  ; 
then,  passing  to  the  other  side,  he  will  lightly 
tickle  the  sleeper,  whom  he  seems  to  magnetize, 
till  the  latter  shrinks  back  involuntarily,  and  ends 
by  turning. round,  and  leaving  the  sheet  folded 
behind  him.     Should  he  awake  and  strive  to  seize 
the  robber,  he  catches  at  a  slippery  form,  which 
slides  through  his  hands  like  an  eel  ;  should  he 
even  succeed  in  seizing  him,  it  would  be  fatal— 
the    dagger  strikes  him   to   the   heart,   he  falls 
bathed  in  his  blood,  and  the  assassin  disappears." 
— B.  S. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  289 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE     SMUGGLER. 

THE  tempest  of  the  morning1  has  long 
been  over.  The  sun  is  verging-  toward  the 
horizon.  Some  hours  have  elapsed  since 
the  Strang-ler  introd  iced  himself  into 
Djalma's  cabin,  and  tattooed  him  with  a 
mysterious  sign  during-  his  sleep. 

A  horseman  advances  rapidly  down  a 
long  avenue  of  spreading-  trees.  Sheltered 
by  the  thick  and  verdant  arch,  a  thousand 
birds  salute  the  splendid  evening-  with 
songs  and  circlings  ;  red  and  green  par- 
rots climb,  by  help  of  their  hooked  beaks, 
to  the  top  of  pink-blossomed  acacias; 
large  Morea  birds  of  the  finest  and  rich- 
est blue,  whose  throats  and  long-  tails 
change  in  the  light  to  a  g-olden  brown, 
are  chasing  the  prince-oriels,  clothed 
in  their  glossy  feathers  of  black  and 
orange ;  Kolo  doves,  of  a  changeable 
violet  blue,  are  gently  cooing  by  the  side 
of  the  birds  of  paradise,  in  whose  brilliant 
plumage  are  mingled  the  prismatic  colors 
of  the  emerald  and  ruby,  the  topaz  and 
sapphire. 

This  avenue,  a  little  raised,  commanded 
the  view  of  a  small  pond,  which  reflected 


VOL.  1—13 


290  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

at  intervals  the  green  shade  of  tamarind 
trees.  In  the  calm,  limpid  waters,  many 
fish  were  visible,  some  with  silver  scales 
and  purple  fins,  others  gleaming  with 
azure  and  vermilion  :  so  still  were  they 
that  they  looked  as  if  set  in  a  mass  of 
bluish  crystal,  and,  as  the}'  dwelt  mo- 
tionless near  the  surface  of  the  pool,  on 
which  played  a  dazzling  ray  of  the  sun, 
they  reveled  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  light 
and  heat.  A  thousand  insects — living 
gems,  with  wings  of  flame — glided,  flut- 
tered and  buzzed  over  the  transparent 
wave,  in  which,  at  an  extraordinary 
depth,  were  mirrored  the  variegated 
tints  of  the  aquatic  plants  on  the  bank. 

It  is  impossible  to  give  an  adequate  idea 
of  the  exuberant  nature  of  this  scene, 
luxuriant  in  sunlight,  colors,  and  per- 
fumes, which  served,  so  to  speak,  as  a 
frame  to  the  young  and  brilliant  rider, 
who  was  advancing  along  the  avenue.  It 
was  Djalma.  He  had  not  perceived  the 
indelible  marks  which  the  Strangler  had 
traced  upon  his  left  arm. 

His  Japanese  mare,  of  slender  make, 
full  of  fire  and  vigor,  is  black  as  night. 
A  narrow  red  cloth  serves  instead  of 
saddle.  To  moderate  the  impetuous 
bounds  of  the  animal,  Djalma  uses  a  small 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  291 

steel  bit,  with  headstall  and  reins  of 
twisted  scarlet  silk,  fine  as  a  thread. 

Not  one  of  those  admirable  riders, 
sculptured  so  masterly  on  the  frieze  of 
the  Parthenon,  sits  his  horse  more  grace- 
fully and  proudly  than  this  young-  Indian, 
whose  fine  face,  illumined  by  the  setting1 
sun,  is  radiant  with  serene  happiness ;  his 
eyes  sparkle  with  joy,  and  his  dilated  nos- 
trils and  unclosed  lips  inhale  with  delight 
the  balmy  breeze  that  brings  to  him  the 
perfume  of  flowers  and  the  scent  of  fresh 
leaves,  for  the  trees  are  still  moist  from 
the  abundant  rain  that  fell  after  the 
storm. 

A  red  cap,  similar  to  that  worn  by  the 
Greeks,  surmounting  the  black  locks  of 
Djalma,  set  off  to  advantage  the  golden 
tint  of  his  complexion  ;  his  throat  is  bare ; 
he  is  clad  in  his  robe  "of  white  muslin  with 
large  sleeves,  confined  at  the  waist  by  a 
scarlet  sash  ;  very  full  drawers,  in  white 
cotton  stuff,  leave  half  uncovered  his 
tawny  and  polished  legs;  their  classic 
curve  stands  out  from  the  dark  sides  of 
the  horse,  which  he  presses  tightly  be- 
tween his  muscular  calves.  He  has  no 
stirrups;  his  foot,  small  and  narrow,  is 
shod  with  a  sandal  of  morocco  leather. 

The  rush  of  his  thoughts,  by  turns  im- 
petuous and  restrained,  was  expressed  in 


292  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

some  degree  by  the  pace  he  imparted  to 
his  horse — now  bold  and  ^precipitate,  like 
the  flight  of  unbridled  imagination — now 
calm  and  measured,  like  the  reflection 
which  succeeds  an  idle  dream.  But,  in  all 
this  fantastic  course,  his  least  movements 
were  distinguished  by  a  proud,  independ- 
ent, and  somewhat  savage  grace. 

Dispossessed  of  his  paternal  territory 
by  the  English,  and  at  first  detained  by 
them  as  a  state-prisoner,  after  the  death 
of  his  father — who  (as  M.  Joshua  van 
Dael  had  written  to  M.  Rodin)  had  fallen 
sword  in  hand — Djalma  had  at  length 
been  restored  to  liberty.  .Abandoning 
the  continent  of  India,  and  still  accom- 
panied by  General  Simon,  who  had  lin- 
gered hard  by  the  prison  of  his  old  friend's 
son,  the  young  Indian  came  next  to  Ba- 
tavia,  the  birthplace  of  his  mother,  to 
collect  the  modest  inheritance  of  his 
maternal  ancestors.  And  among  this 
property,  so  long  despised  or  forgotten 
by  his  father,  he  found  some  important 
papers,  and  a  medal  exactly  similar  to 
that  worn  by  Rose  and  Blanche. 

General  Simon  was  not  more  surprised 
than  pleased  at  this  discovery,  which  not 
only  established  a  tie  of  kindred  between 
his  wife  and  Djalma's  mother,  but  which 
also  seemed  to  promise  great  advantages 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  293 

for  the  future.  Leaving  Djalma  at  Ba- 
tavia,  to  terminate  some  business  there, 
he  had  gone  to  the  neighboring1  island  of 
Sumatra,  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  vessel 
that  would  make  the  passage  to  Europe 
directly  and  rapidly ;  for  it  was  now 
necessary  that,  cost  what  it  might,  the 
young  Indian  also  should  be  at  Paris  on 
the  13th  of  February,  1832.  Should  Gen- 
eral Simon  find  a  vessel  ready  to  sail  for 
Europe,  he  was  to  return  immediately  to 
fetch  Djalma  :  and  the  latter,  expecting 
him  daily,  was  now  going  to  the  pier  of 
Batavia,  hoping  to  see  the  father  of  Rose 
and  Blanche  arrive  by  the  mail-boat  from 
Sumatra. 

A  few  words  are  here  necessary  on  the 
early  life  of  the  son  of  Kadja-sing. 

Having  lost  his  mother  very  young,  and 
brought  up  with  rude  simplicity,  he  had 
accompanied  his  father,  while  yet  a  child, 
to  the  great  tiger  hunts,  as  dangerous  as 
battles ;  and,  in  the  first  dawn  of  youth, 
he  had  followed  him  to  the  stern  and 
bloody  war  which  he  waged  in  defense 
of  his  country.  Thus  living,  from  the 
time  of  his  mother's  death,  in  the  midst 
of  forests  and  mountains  and  continual 
combats,  his  vigorous  and  ingenuous  nat- 
ure had  preserved  itself  pure,  and  he  well 
merited  the  name  of  "  The  Generous '' 


294  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

bestowed  on  him.  Born  a  prince,  he  was 
— which  by  no  means  follows — a  prince 
indeed.  During-  the  period  of  his  captiv- 
ity, the  silent  dignity  of  his  bearing-  had 
overawed  his  jailers.  Never  a  reproach, 
never  a  complaint — a  proud  and  melan- 
choly calm  was  all  that  he  opposed  to  a 
treatment  as  unjust  as'  it  was  barbarous, 
until  he  was  restored  to  freedom. 

Having-  thus  been  always  accustomed 
to  a  patriarchal  life,  or  to  a  war  of  moun- 
taineers, which  he  had  only  quitted  to 
pass  a  few  months  in  prison,  Djalma 
knew  nothing,  so  to  speak,  of  civilized 
society.  Without  its  exactly  amounting 
to  a  defect,  he  certainly  carried  his  good 
qualities  to  their  extreme  limits.  Obsti- 
nately faithful  to  his  pledged  word,  de- 
voted to  the  death,  confiding  to  blindness, 
good  almost  to  a  complete  forgetfulness 
of  himself,  he  was  inflexible  toward  in- 
gratitude, falsehood,  or  perfidy.  He  would 
have  felt  no  compunction  to  sacrifice  a 
traitor,  because,  could  he  himself  have 
committed  a  treason,  he  would  have 
thought  it  only  just  to  expiate  it  with 
his  life. 

He  was,  in  a  word,  the  man  of  natural 
feelings,  absolute  and  entire.  Such  a 
man,  brought  into  contact  with  the  tem- 
peraments, calculations,  falsehoods,  de- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  395 

ceptions,  tricks,  restrictions,  and  hollow- 
ness  of  a  refined  society,  such  as  Paris, 
for  example,  would  without  doubt  form  a 
very  curious  subject  for  speculation.  We 
raise  the  hypothesis,  because,  since  his 
journey  to  France  had  been  determined 
on,  Djalma  had  one  fixed,  ardent  desire 
— to  be  in  Paris. 

In  Paris — that  enchanted  city — of  which, 
even  in  Asia,  the  land  of  enchantment,  so 
many  marvelous  tales  were  told. 

What  chiefly  inflamed  the  fresh,  vivid 
imagination  of  the  young-  Indian  was  the 
thought  of  French  women — those  attrac- 
tive Parisian  beauties,  miracles  of  eleg-ance 
and  grace,  who  eclipse,  he  was  informed, 
even  the  magnificence  of  the  capitals  of 
the  civilized  world.  And  at  this  very  mo- 
ment, in  the  brig-htness  of  that  warm  and 
splendid  evening,  surrounded  by  the  in- 
toxication of  flowers  and  perfumes,  which 
accelerated  the  pulses  of  his  young-  fiery 
heart,  Djalma  was  dreaming-  of  those  ex- 
quisite creatures,  whom  bis  fancy  loved 
to  clothe  in  the  most  ideal  g-arbs. 

It  seemed  to  him  as  if,  at  the  end  of 
the  avenue,  in  the  midst  of  that  sheet  of 
g-olden  light,  which  the  trees  encompassed 
with  their  full,  green  arch,  he  could  see 
pass  and  repass,  white  and  sylph-like,  a 
host  of  adorable  and  voluptuous  phan- 


296  THE   WANDEB1NG  JEW. 

toms,  that  threw  him  kisses  from  the  tips 
of  their  rosy  fingers.  Unable  to  restrain 
his  burning1  emotions,  carried  away  by  a 
strange  enthusiasm,  Djalma  uttered  ex- 
clamations of  joy,  deep,  manly,  and  son- 
orous, and  made  his  vigorous  courser 
bound  under  him  in  the  excitement  of  a 
mad  delight.  Just  then  a  sunbeam,  pierc- 
ing- the  dark  vault  of  the  avenue,  shone 
full  upon  him. 

For  several  minutes,  a  man  had  been 
advancing-  rapidly  along1  a  path,  which,  at 
its  termination,  intersected  the  avenue 
diagonal^.  H,e  stopped  a  moment  in  the 
shade,  looking  at  Djalma  with  astonish- 
ment. It  was  indeed  a  charming-  sight  to 
behold,  in  the  midst  of  a  blaze  of  dazzling 
luster,  this  youth,  so  handsome,  joyous, 
and  ardent,  clad  in  his  white  and  flowing 
vestments,  gayly  and  lightly  seated  on 
his  proud  black  mare,  who  covered  her 
red  bridle  with  her  foam,  and  whose  long 
tail  and  thick  mane  floated  on  the  even- 
ing- breeze. 

But,  with  that  reaction  which  takes 
place  in  all  human  desires,  Djalma  soon 
felt  stealing  over  him  a  sentiment  of  soft, 
undefinable  melancholy.  He  raised  his 
hand  to  his  eyes,  now  dimmed  with  moist- 
ure, and  allowed  the  reins  to  fall  on  the 
mane  of  his  docile  steed,  which,  instantly 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  297 

stopping,  stretched  out  its  long  neck,  and 
turned  its  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
personage  whom  it  could  see  approach* 
ing  through  the  coppice. 

This  man,  Mahal  the  Smuggler,  \vas 
dressed  nearly  like  European  sailors. 
He  wore  a  jacket  and  trousers  of  white 
duck,  a  broad  red  sash,  and  a  very  low- 
crowned  straw  hat.  His  face  was  brown, 
with  strongly  marked  features,  and, 
though  forty  years  of  age,  he  was 
quite  beardless. 

In  another  moment  Mahal  was  close  to 
the  young  Indian.  "  You  are  Prince  Djal- 
ma  ?  "  said  he,  in  not  very  good  French, 
raising  his  hand  respectfully  to  his  hat. 

"  What  would  you  ?  "  said  the  Indian. 

"  You  are  the  son  of  Kadja-sing  ?  " 

"  Once  again,  what  would  you  ?  " 

"  The  friend  of  General  Simon  ?  " 

"  General  Simon  ?."  cried  Djalma. 

"You  are  going  to  meet  him,  as  you 
have  gone  every  evening,  since  you  ex- 
pect his  return  from  Sumatra  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  how  do  you  know  all  this  ?  " 
said  the  Indian,  looking  at  the  Smuggler 
with  as  much  surprise  as  curiosity. 

"  Is  he  not  going  to  land  at  Batavia, 
to-day  or  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Are  you  sent  by  him  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"   said    Mahal,  with  a  dis- 


298  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

trustful  air.     "But   are  you    really  the 
son  of  Kadja-sins:  ?  " 
.   "  Yes,  I  tell  you — but  where  have  you 
seen  General  Simon  ?  " 

"If  you  are  the  son  of  Kadja-sing-," 
resumed  Mahal,  continuing  to  regard 
Djalma  with  a  suspicious  eye,  "what 
is  your  surname  ?  " 

"  My  sire  was  called  the  '  Father  of 
the  Generous/  answered  the  young-  In- 
dian, as  a  shade  of  sorrow  passed  over 
his  fine  countenance. 

These  words  appeared  in  part  to  con- 
vince Mahal  of  the  identity  of  Djalma ; 
but,  wishing-  doubtless  to  be  still  more 
certain,  he  resumed  :  "  You  must  have 
received,  two  days  ago,  a  letter  from 
General  Simon,  written  from  Sumatra  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;   but  why  so  many  questions  ?  " 

"  To  assure  myself  that  you  are  really 
the  son  of  Kadja-sing-,  and  to  execute 
the  orders  I  have  received." 

"  From  whom  ?  " 

"  From  General  Simon." 

"But  where  is  he  ?  " 

"  When  I  have  proof  that  you  are 
Prince  Djalma,  I  will  tell  you.  I  was  in- 
formed that  you  would  be  mounted  on  a 
black  mare,  with  a  red  bridle.  But — " 

"  By  the  soul  of  my  mother !  speak 
what  you  have  to  say ! " 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  299 

"I  will  tell  you  all — if  you  can  tell 
me  what  \vas  the  printed  paper  con- 
tained in  the  last  letter  that  General 
Simon  wrote  you  from  Sumatra." 

"  It  was  a  cutting-  from  a  French  news- 
paper." 

"  Did  it  announce  good  or  bad  news  for 
the  general ?  " 

"  Good  news — for  it  related  that,  dur- 
ing1 his  absence,  they  had  acknowledged 
the  last  rank  and  title  bestowed  on  him 
by  the  Emperor,  as  they  had  done  for 
others  of  his  brothers  in  arms,  exiled 
like  him." 

"  You  are,  indeed,  Prince  Djalrna," 
said  the  Smuggler,  after  a  moment's 
reflection.  '  I  may  speak.  General  Si- 
mon landed  last  night  in  Java,  but  on 
a  desert  part  of  the  coast." 

"On  a  desert  part?" 

"  Because  he  has  to  hide  himself." 

"  Hide  himself  !  "  exclaimed  Djalma, 
in  amazement ;  "  why  ?  " 

"That  I  don't  know." 

"But  where  is  he?"  asked  Djalma, 
growing-  pale  with  alarm. 

"  He  is  three  leagues  hence — near,  the 
sea-shore — in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi." 

"  Oblig-ed  to  hide  himself  !  "  repeated 
Djalma,  and  his  countenance  expressed 
increasing  surprise  and  anxiety. 


800  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Without  being1  certain,  I  think  it  is 
because  of  a  duel  he  fought  in  Sumatra," 
said  the  Smuggler,  mysteriously. 

"A  duel— with  whom  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — I  am  not  at  all  certain 
on  the  subject.  But  do  you  know  the 
ruins  of  Tchandi  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"The  general  expects  you  there;  that 
is  what  he  ordered  me  to  tell  you." 

"  So  you  came  with  him  from  Su- 
matra ?  " 

"  I  was  pilot  of  the  little  smuggling 
coaster  that  landed  him  in  the  night  on 
a  lonely  beach.  He  knew  that  you  went 
every  day  to  the  mole  to  wait  for  him ; 
I  was  almost  sure  that  I  should  meet  you. 
He  gave  me  details  about  the  letter  you 
received  from  him  as  a  proof  that  he  had 
sent  me.  If  he  could  have  found  the  means 
of  writing,  he  would  have  written." 

"  But  did  he  not  tell  you  why  he  was 
obliged  to  hide  himself  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  nothing.  Certain  words 
made  me  suspect  what  I  told  you — a 
duel." 

Knowing  the  mettle  of  General  Simon, 
Djalma  thought  the  suspicions  of  the 
Smuggler  not  unfounded.  After  a  mo- 
ment's silence,  he  said  to  him  :  "  Can  you 
undertake  to  lead  home  my  horse  ?  My 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  301 

dwelling1  is  without  the  town — there,  in 
in  the  midst  of  those  trees — by  the  side 
of  the  new  mosque.  In  ascending-  the 
mountain  of  Tchandi,  my  horse  would 
be  in  my  way ;  I  shall  go  much  faster 
on  foot." 

"  I  know  where  you  live  ;  General  Si- 
mon told  me.  I  should  have  gone  there 
if  I  had  not  met  you.  Give  me  your 
horse." 

Djalma  sprung-  lightly  to  the  ground, 
threw  the  bridle  to  Mahal,  unrolled  one 
end  of  his  sash,  took  out  a  silk  purse, 
and  gave  it  to  the  Smuggler,  saying : 
"You  have  been  faithful  and  obedient. 
Here  ! — it  is  a  trifle — but  I  have  no 
more." 

"  Kadja-sing  was  rightly  called  the 
'Father  of  the  Generous,''  said  the 
Smug-g-ler,  bowing  with  respect  and 
gratitude.  He  took  the  road  to  Bata- 
via,  leading  Djalma's  horse.  The  young 
Indian,  on  the  contrary,  plunged  into  the 
coppice,  and,  walking  with  great  strides, 
he  directed  his  course  toward  the  moun- 
tain, on  which  were  the  ruins  of  Tchandi, 
where  he  could  not  arrive  before  night. 


303  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

M.  JOSHUA  VAN    DAEL. 

M.  JOSHUA  VAN  DAEL,  a  Dutch  mer- 
chant, and  correspondent  of  M.  Rodin, 
was  born  at  Batavia,  the  capital  of  the 
island  of  Java  ;  his  parents  had  sent  him 
to  be  educated  at  Pondicherry,  in  a  cele- 
brated religious  house,  long  established 
in  that  place,  and  belonging  to  the  "  So- 
ciety of  Jesus."  It  was  there  that  he 
was  initiated  into  the  order,  as  "pro- 
fessor of  the  three  vows,"  or  lay  member, 
commonly  called  "  temporal  coadjutor." 

Joshua  was  a  man  of  a  probity  that 
passed  for  stainless ;  of  strict  accuracy 
in  business,  cold,  careful,  reserved,  and 
remarkably  skillful  and  sagacious ;  his 
financial  operations  were  almost  always 
successful,  for  a  protecting  power  gave 
him  ever  in  time  knowledge  of  events 
which  might  advantageous!}7  inflenuce  his 
commercial  transactions.  The  religious 
house  of  Pondicherry  was  interested  in 
his  affairs,  having  charged  him  with  the 
exportation  and  exchange  of  the  produce 
of  its  large  possessions  in  this  colony. 

Speaking  little,  hearing  much,  never 
disputing,  polite  in  the  extreme — giving 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  303 

seldom,  but  with  choice  and  purpose — 
Joshua,  "without  inspiring  sympathy, 
commanded  generally  that  cold  respect 
which  is  always  paid  to  the  rigid  moral- 
ist ;  for,  instead  of  yielding  to  the  influ- 
ence of  lax  and  dissolute  colonial  manners, 
he  appeared  to  live  with  great  regularity, 
and  his  exterior  had  something  of  auster- 
ity about  it,  which  tended  to  overawe. 

The  following  scene  took  place  at  Ba- 
tavia,  while  Djalraa  was  on  his  way  to 
the  ruins  of  Tchandi  in  the  hope  of  meet- 
ing General  Simon. 

M.  Joshua  had  just  retired  into  his  cab- 
inet, in  which  were  many  shelves  filled 
with  paper  boxes,  and  huge  ledgers  and 
cash-boxes  lying  open  upon  desks.  The 
only  window  of  this  apartment,  which 
was  on  the  ground-floor,  looked  out  upon 
a  narrow  empty  court,  and  was  protected 
externally  by  strong  iron  bars  ;  instead  of 
glass,  it  was  fitted  with  a  Venetian  blind, 
because  of  the  extreme  heat  of  the  climate. 

M.  Joshua,  having  placed  upon  his  desk 
a  taper  in  a  glass  globe,  looked  at  the 
clock.  "  Half-past  nine,"  said  he.  "  Ma- 
hal ought  soon  to  be  here." 

Saying  this,  he  went  out,  passed 
through  an  ante-chamber,  opened  a  sec- 
ond thick  door,  studded  with  nail-heads,  in 
the  Dutch  fashion,  cautiously  entered  the 


304  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

court  (so  as  not  to  be  heard  by  the  people 
in  the  house),  and  drew  back  the  secret 
bolt  of  a  gate  six  feet  high,  formidably 
garnished  with  iron  spikes.  Leaving  this 
gate  unfastened,  he  regained  his  cabinet, 
after  he  had  successively  and  carefully 
closed  the  two  other  doors  behind  him. 

M.  Joshua  next  seated  himself  at  his 
desk,  and  took  from  a  drawer  a  long  let- 
ter, or  rather  statement,  commenced  some- 
time before,  and  continued  day  by  day. 
It  is  superfluous  to  observe  that  the  letter 
already  mentioned,  as  addressed  to  M. 
Rodin,  was  anterior  to  the  liberation  of 
Djalma  and  his  arrival  at  Batavia. 

The  present  statement  was  also  ad- 
dressed to  M.  Rodin,  and  Van  Dael  thus 
went  on  with  it : 

"  Fearing  the  return  of  General  Simon, 
of  which  I  have  been  informed  by  inter- 
cepting his  letters— I  have  already  told 
you  that  I  had  succeeded  in  being  em- 
ployed by  him  as  his  agent  here  ;  having 
then  read  his  letters,  and  sent  them  on 
as  if  untouched  to  Djalma,  I  felt  myself 
obliged,  from  the  pressure  of  the  circum- 
stances, to  have  recourse  to  extreme 
measures  —  taking  care  always  to  pre- 
serve appearances  and  rendering  at  the 
same  time  a  signal  service  to  humanity, 
-which  last  reason  chiefly  decided  me. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  805 

"A  new  danger  Imperiously  com- 
manded these  measures.  The  steamship 
Ruyter  came  in  yesterday,  and  sails  to- 
morrow in  the  course  of  the  day.  She 
is  to  make  the  voyage  to  Europe  via  the 
Arabian  Gulf :  her  passengers  will  disem- 
bark at  Suez,  cross  the  Isthmus,  and  go 
on  board  another  vessel  at  Alexandria, 
which  will  bring  them  to  France.  This 
voyage,  as  rapid  as  it  is  direct,  will  not 
take  more  than  seven  or  eight  weeks. 
We  are  now  at  the  end  of  October ;  Prince 
Djalma  might  then  be  in  France  by  the 
commencement  of  the  month  of  January ; 
and  according  to  your  instructions,  of 
which  I  know  not  the  motive,  but  which  I 
execute  with  zeal  and  submission,  his  de- 
parture must  be  prevented  at  all  hazards, 
because,  you  tell  me,  some  of  the  gravest 
interests  of  the  Society  would  be  compro- 
mised by  the  arrival  of  this  young  Indian 
in  Paris  before  the  13th  of  February. 
Now,  if  I  succeed,  as  I  hope,  in  making 
him  miss  this  opportunit}'  of  the  Ruyter 
it  will  be  materially  impossible  for  him  to 
arrive  in  France  before  the  month  of  April; 
for  the  Ruyter  is  the  only  vessel  which 
makes  the  direct  passage,  the  others  tak- 
ing at  least  four  or  five  months  to  reach 
Europe. 

"  Before  telling  you  the  means  which  I 


306  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

have  thought  right  to  employ  to  detain 
Prince  Djalma — of  the  success  of  which 
means  I  am  yet  uncertain — iu  is  well  that 
you  should  be  acquainted  with  the  follow- 
ing facts. 

"  They  have  just  discovered,  in  British 
India,  a  community  whose  members  call 
themselves  '  Brothers  of  the  Good  Work,' 
or  '  Phansegara,'  which  signifies  simply 
'  Thugs  '  or  '  Stranglers  '  ;  these  mur- 
derers do  not  shed  blood,  but  strangle 
their  victims,  less  for  the  purpose  of  rob- 
bing them  than  in  obedience  to  a  homi- 
cidal vocation,  and  to  the  laws  of  an  infer- 
nal divinity  named  by  them  '  Bowanee.' 

"  I  cannot  better  give  you  an  idea  of 
this  horrible  sect  than  by  transcribing 
here  some  lines  from  the  introduction  of 
a  report  by  Colonel  Sleeman,  who  has 
hunted  out  this  dark  association  with  in- 
defatigable zeal.  The  report  in  question 
was  published  about  two  months  ago. 
Here  is  the  extract ;  it  is  the  colonel  who 
speaks : 

"'From  1822  to  1824,  when  I  was 
charged  with  the  magistracy  and  civil 
administration  of  the  district  of  Nersing- 
pore,  not  a  murder,  not  the  least  robbery 
was  committed  by  an  ordinary  criminal, 
without  my  being  immediately  informed 
of  it ;  but  if  any  one  had  come  and  told 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  807 

me  at  this  period  that  a  band  of  hereditary 
assassins  by  profession  lived  in  the  village 
of  Kundelie,  within  about  four  hundred 
yards  of  my  court  of  justice— rthat  the 
beautiful  groves  of  the  village  of  Munde- 
soor,  within  a  day's  march  of  my  residence, 
formed  one  of  the  most  frightful  marts  of 
assassination  in  all  India — that  numerous 
bands  of  "  Brothers  of  the  Good  Work," 
coming  from  Hindostan  and  the  Deccan, 
met  annually  beneath  these  shades,  as  at 
a  solemn  festival,  to  exercise  their  dread- 
ful vocation  upon  all  the  roads  which 
cross  each  other  in  this  locality — I  should 
have  taken  such  a  person  for  a  madman, 
or  one  who  had  been  imposed  upon  by  idle 
tales.  And  yet  nothing  could  be  truer : 
hundreds  of  travelers  had  been  buried 
every  year  in  the  groves  of  Mundesoor  ;  a 
whole  tribe  of  assassins  lived  close  to  my 
door,  at  the  very  time  I  was  supreme 
magistrate  of  the  province,  and  extended 
their  devastations  to  the  cities  of  Poonah 
and  Hyderabad.  I  shall  never  forget, 
when,  to  convince  me  of  the  fact,  one  of 
the  chiefs  of  the  Stranglers,  who  had 
turned  informer  against  them,  caused 
thirteen  bodies  to  be  dug  up  from  the 
ground  beneath  my  tent,  and  offered  to 
produce  any  number  from  the  soil  in  the 
immediate  vicinity.'  * 


308  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

"  These  few  words  of  Colonel  Sleeman 
will  give  some  idea  of  this  dread  society, 
which  has  its  laws,  duties,  customs,  op- 
posed to  all  other  laws  human  and  divine. 
Devoted  to  each  other,  even  to  heroism, 
blindly  obedient  to  their  chiefs,  who  pro- 
fess themselves  the  immediate  represen- 
tatives of  their  dark  divinity,  regarding 
as  enemies  all  who  do  not  belong  to  them, 
gaining  recruits  everywhere  by  a  frightful 
system  of  proselytism — these  apostles  of  a 
religion  of  murder  go  preaching  their 
abominable  doctrines  in  the  shade,  and 
spreading  their  immense  net  over  the 
whole  of  India. 

"  Three  of  their  principal  chiefs,  and 
one  of  their  adepts,  flying  from  the  de- 
termined pursuit  of  the  English  governor- 
general,  having  succeeded  in  making  their 
escape,  had  arrived  at  the  Straits  of  Ma- 
lacca, at  no  great  distance  from  our 
island ;  a  smuggler,  who  is  also  some- 
thing of  a  pirate,  attached  to  their  asso- 
ciation, and  by  name  Mahal,  took  them 
on  board  his  coasting'  vessel,  and  brought 
them  hither,  where  they  think  themselves 
for  some  time  in  safety — as,  following  the 
advice  of  the  smuggler,  they  lie  concealed 
in  a  thick  forest,  in  which  are  many 
ruined  temples,  and  numerous  subter- 
ranean retreats. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  309 

"  Among-  these  chiefs,  all  three  remark- 
ably intelligent,  there  is  one  in  particu- 
lar, named  Faringhea,  whose  extraordi- 
nary energy  and  eminent  qualities  make 
him  every  way  redoubtable.  He  is  of 
the  mixed  race,  half-white  and  Hindoo, 
has  long"  inhabited  towns  in  which  are 
European  factories,  and  speaks  English 
and  French  very  well.  The  other  two 
chiefs  are  a  Negro  and  a  Hindoo  ;  the 
adept  is  a  Malay. 

"  The  smuggler,  Mahal,  considering 
that  he  could  obtain  a  large  reward  by 
giving  up  these  three  chiefs  and  their 
adept,  came  to  me,  knowing,  as  all  the 
world  knows,  my  intimate  relations  with 
a  person  who  has  great  influence  with  our 
governor.  Two  days  ago,  he  offered  me, 
on  certain  conditions,  to  deliver  up  the 
Negro,  the  half-caste,  the  Hindoo,  and 
the  Malay.  These  conditions  are — a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money,  and  a  free  pas- 
sage on  board  a  vessel  sailing  for  Europe 
or  America,  in  order  to  escape  the  im- 
placable vengeance  of  the  Thugs. 

"  I  joyfully  seized  the  occasion  to  hand 
over  three  such  murderers  to  human  jus- 
tice, and  I  promised  Mahal  to  arrange 
matters  for  him  with  the  governor,  but 
also  on  certain  conditions,  innocent  in 
themselves,  and  which  concerned  Djalma. 


810  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

Should  my  project  succeed,  I  will  explain 
myself  more  at  length ;  I  shall  soon  know 
the  result,  for  I  expect  Mahal  every  min- 
ute. 

"But  before  I  close  these  dispatches, 
which  are  to  go  to-morrow  by  the  Ruy- 
ter — in  which  vessel  I  have  also  engaged 
a  passage  for  Mahal  the  Smuggler,  in  the 
event  of  the  success  of  my  plans — I  must 
include  in  parentheses  a  subject  of  some 
importance. 

"  In  my  last  letter,  in  which  I  announced 
to  you  the  death  of  Djalma's  father,  and 
his  own  imprisonment  by  the  English,  I 
asked  for  some  information  as  to  the  sol- 
vency of  Baron  Tripeaud,  banker  and 
manufacturer  at  Paris,  who  has  also  an 
agency  at  Calcutta.  This  information 
will  now  be  useless,  if  what  I  have  just 
learned  should,  unfortunately,  turn  out 
to  be  correct,  and  it  will  be  for  you  to  act 
according  to  circumstances. 

"  His  house  at  Calcutta  owes  consider- 
able sums  both  to  me  and  our  colleague 
at  Pondicherry,  and  it  is  said  that  M. 
Tripeaud  has  involved  himself  to  a  dan- 
gerous extent  in  attempting  to  ruin,  by 
opposition,  a  very  flourishing  establish- 
ment, founded  some  time  ago  by  M. 
Francois  Hardy,  an  eminent  manufact- 
urer. I  am  assured  that  M.  Tripeaud 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  811 

has  already  sunk  and  lost  a  large  capital 
in  this  enterprise  :  he  has  no  doubt  done 
a  great  deal  of  harm  to  M.  Francois 
Hardy  ;  but  he  has  also,  they  say,  serious- 
ly compromised  his  own  fortune — and, 
were  he  to  fail,  the  effects  of  his  disaster 
would  be  very  fatal  to  us,  seeing-  that  he 
owes  a  large  sum  of  money  to  me  and  to 
us. 

"  In  this  state  of  thing's  it  would  be 
very  desirable  if,  by  the  employment  of 
the  powerful  means  of  every  kind  at  our 
disposal,  we  could  completely  discredit 
and  break  down  the  house  of  M.  Francois 
Hardy,  already  shaken  by  M.  Tripeaud's 
violent  opposition.  In  that  case,  the  lat- 
ter would  soon  regain  all  he  has  lost ;  the 
ruin  of  his  rival  would  insure  his  prosper- 
ity, and  oar  demands  would  be  securely 
covered. 

"  Doubtless,  it  is  painful,  it  is  sad,  to  be 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  these  extreme 
measures,  only  to  get  back  our  own  ;  but, 
in  these  days,  are  we  not  surely  justified 
in  sometimes  using  the  arms  that  are  in- 
cessantly turned  against  us  ?  If  we  are 
reduced  to  such  steps  by  the  injustice  and 
wickedness  of  men,  we  may  console  our- 
selves with  the  reflection  that  we  only 
seek  to  preserve  our  worldly  possessions 
in  order  to  devote  them  to  the  greater 


812  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

glory  of  God  ;  while,  in  the  hands  of  our 
enemies,  those  very  goods  are  the  danger- 
ous instruments  of  perdition  and  scandal. 

"  After  all,  it  is  merety  a  humble  pro- 
position that  I  submit  to  you.  Were  it 
in  my  power  to  take  an  active  part  in  the 
matter,  I  should  do  nothing  of  myself. 
My  will  is  not  my  own.  It  belongs,  with 
all  I  possess,  to  those  to  whom  I  have 
sworn  absolute  obedience." 

Here  a  slight  noise  interrupted  M. 
Joshua,  and  drew  his  attention  from  his 
work.  He  rose  abruptly  and  went  straight 
to  the  window.  Three  gentle  taps  were 
given  on  the  outside  of  one  of  the  slats  of 
the  blind. 

"  Is  it  you,  Mahal  ?  "  asked  M.  Joshua, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  It  is  I,"  was  answered  from  without, 
also  in  a  low  tone. 

"  And  the  Malay  ?  " 

"  He  has  succeeded." 

"Really!"  cried  M.  Joshua,  with  an 
expression  of  great  satisfaction ;  "  are 
you  su-re  of  it  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure  :  there  is  no  devil  more 
clever  and  intrepid." 

"  And  Djalma  ?  " 

"  The  parts  of  the  letter  which  I  quoted 
convinced  him  that  I  came  from  General 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  313 

Simon,  and  that  he  would  find  him  at  the 
ruins  of  Tchandi." 

"  Therefore,  at  this  moment — " 

"Djalma  goes  to  the  ruins,  where  he 
will  encounter  the  black,  the  half-blood, 
and  the  Indian.  It  is  tbere  they  have 
appointed  to  meet  the  Malay,  who  tat- 
tooed the  prince  during  his  sleep." 

"  Have  you  been  to  examine  the  sub- 
terraneous passage  ?  " 

"  I  went  there  yesterday.  One  of  the 
stones  of  the  pedestal  of  the  statue  turns 
upon  itself ;  the  stairs  are  large ;  it  will 
do." 

"  And  the  three  chiefs  have  no  sus- 
picion ?  " 

'•'  None — I  saw  them  in  the  morning — 
and  this  evening  the  Malay  came  to  tell 
me  all,  before  he  went  to  join  them  at  the 
ruins  of  Tchandi — for  he  had  remained 
hidden  among  the  bushes,  not  daring  to 
go  there  in  the  day  time." 

"  Mahal — if  you  have  told  the  truth, 
and  if  all  succeed — your  pardon  and 
ample  reward  are  assured  to  you.  Your 
berth  has  been  taken  on  board  the  Ruy- 
ter;  you  will  sail  to-morrow;  you  will 
thus  be  safe  from  the  malice  of  the 
Stranglers,  who  would  follow  you  hither 
to  revenge  the  death  of  their  chiefs,  Prov- 
idence having  chosen  you  to  deliver  those 
VOL.  1—14 


314  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

three  great  criminals  to  justice.  Heaven 
will  bless  you  !  Go  and  wait  for  me  at 
the  door  of  the  governor's  house ;  I  will 
introduce  you.  The  matter  is  so  impor- 
tant that  I  do  not  hesitate  to  disturb  him 
thus  late  in  the  night.  Go  quickly  !  I 
will  follow  on  my  side." 

The  steps  of  Mahal  were  distinctly 
audible,  as  he  withdrew  precipitately, 
and  then  silence  reigned  once  more  in 
the  house.  Joshua  returned  to  his  desk, 
and  hastily  added  these  words  to  the  dis- 
patch which  he  had  before  commenced  : 

"  Whatever  may  now  happen,  it  will 
be  impossible  for  Djalma  to  leave  Batavia 
at  present.  You  may  rest  quite  satisfied; 
he  will  not  be  at  Paris  by  the  13th  of 
next  February.  As  I  foresaw,  I  shall 
have  to  be  up  all  night.  I  am  just  going 
to  the  governor's.  To-morrow  I  will  add 
a  few  lines  to  this  long  statement,  which 
the  steamship  Ruyter  will  convey  to 
Europe." 

Having  locked  up  his  papers,  Joshua 
rang  the  bell  loudly,  and,  to  the  great 
astonishment  of  his  servants,  not  accus- 
tomed to  see  him  leave  home  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  went  in  all  haste  to  the  resi- 
dence of  the  governor  of  the  island. 

We  now  conduct  the  reader  to  the 
ruins  of  Tchandi. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  315 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDI. 

To  the  storm  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
the  approach  of  which  so  well  served  the 
Strangler's  designs  upon  Djalma,  has  suc- 
ceeded a  calm  and  serene  night.  The  disk 
of  the  moon  rises  slowly  behind  a  mass  of 
lofty  ruins,  situate  on  a  hill,  in  the  midst 
of  a  thick  wood,  about  three  leagues  from 
Batavia. 

Long  ranges  of  stone,  high  walls  of 
brick,  fretted  away  by  time,  porticoes 
covered  with  parasitical  vegetation,  stand 
out  boldly  from  the  sheet  of  silver  light 
which  blends  the  horizon  with  the  limpid 
blue  of  the  heavens.  Some  rays  of  the 
moon,  gliding  through  the  opening  on  one 
of  these  porticoes,  fall  upon  two  colossal 
statues  at  the  foot  of  an  immense  stair- 
case, the  loose  stones  of  which  are  almost 
entirely  concealed  by  grass,  moss,  and 
brambies. 

The  fragments  of  one  of  these  statues, 
broken  in  the  middle,  lie  strewed  upon  the 
ground  ;  the  other,  which  remains  whole 
and  standing,  is  frightful  to  behold.  It 
represents  a  man  of  gigantic  proportions, 


816  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

with  a  head  three  feet  high  ;  the  expres- 
sion of  the  countenance  is  ferocious,  eyes 
of  brilliant  slaty  black  are  set  beneath 
gray  brows,  the  large,  deep  mouth  gapes 
immoderately,  and  reptiles  have  made 
their  nest  between  the  lips  of  stone  ;  by 
the  light  of  the  moon  a  hideous  swarm 
is  there  dimly  visible.  A  broad  girdle, 
adorned  with  symbolic  ornaments,  encir- 
cles the  body  of  this  statue,  and  fastens  a 
long  sword  to  its  right  side.  The  giant 
has  four  extended  arms,  and,  in  his  great 
hands,  he  bears  an  elephant's  head,  a 
twisted  serpent,  a  human  skull,  and  a 
bird  resembling  a  heron.  The  moon, 
shedding  her  light  on  the  profile  of  this 
statue,  serves  to  augment  the  weirdness 
of  its  aspect. 

Here  and  there,  inclosed  in  the  half- 
crumbling  walls  of  brick,  are  fragments 
of  stone  bass-reliefs,  very  boldly  cut ;  one 
of  those  in  the  best  preservation  repre- 
sents a  man  with  the  head  of  an  elephant," 
and  the  wings  of  a  bat,  devouring  a  child. 
Nothing  can  be  more  gloomy  than  these 
ruins,  buried  among  thick  trees  of  a  dark 
green,  covered  with  frightful  emblems, 
and  seen  by  the  moonlight,  in  the  midst 
of  the  deep  silence  of  night. 

Against  one  of  the  walls  of  this  ancient 
temple,  dedicated  to  some  mysterious  and 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  317 

bloody  Javanese  divinity,  leans  a  kind  of 
hut,  rudely  constructed  of  fragments 
of  brick  and  stone  ;  the  door,  made  of 
woven  rushes,  is  open,  and  a  red  light 
streams  from  it,  which  throws  its  rays  on 
the  tall  grass  that  covers  the  ground. 
Three  men  are  assembled  in  this  hovel, 
around  a  clay  lamp,  with  a  wick  of  cocoa- 
nut  fiber  steeped  in  palm-oil. 

The  first  of  these  three,  about  forty 
years  of  age,  is  poorly  clad  in  the  Euro- 
pean fashion;  his  pale,  almost  white, 
complexion,  announces  that  he  belongs  to 
the  mixed  race,  being  offspring  of  a  white 
father  and  Indian  mother. 

The  second  is  a  robust  African  negro, 
with  thick  lips,  vigorous  shoulders,  and 
lank  legs ;  his  woolly  hair  is  beginning  to 
turn  gray  ;  he  is  covered  with  rags,  and 
stands  close  beside  the  Indian.  The  third 
personage  is  asleep  and  stretched  on  a 
mat  in  the  corner  of  the  hovel. 

These  three  men  are  the  three  Thuggee 
chiefs,  who,  obliged  to  fly  from  the  conti- 
nent of  India,  have  taken  refuge  in  Java, 
under  the  guidance  of  Mahal  the  Smug- 
gler. 

"The Malay  does  not  return,"  said  the 
half-blood,  named  Faringhea,  the  most 
redoubtable  chief  of  this  homicidal  sect. 


318  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  In  executing-  our  orders  he  has  perhaps 
been  killed  by  Djalma." 

"  The  storm  of  this  morning1  brought 
every  reptile  out  of  the  earth,"  said  the 
negro ;  "  the  Malay  must  have  been  bitten 
and  his  body  ere  now  a  nest  of  serpents." 

"To  serve  the  good  work,"  proceeded 
Faringhea,  with  a  gloomy  air,  "  one  must 
know  how  to  brave  death." 

"  And  to  inflict  it,"  added  the  negro. 

A  stifled  cry,  followed  by  some  inarticu- 
late words,  here  drew  the  attention  of 
these  two  men,  who  hastily  turned  their 
heads  in  the  direction  of  the  sleeper. 
This  latter  was  thirty  years  old  at  most. 
His  beardless  face,  of  a  bright  copper 
color,  his  robe  of  coarse  stuff,  his  turban 
striped  brown  and  yellow,  showed  that  he 
belonged  to  the  pure  Hindoo  race.  His 
sleep  appeared  agitated  by  some  painful 
vision  ;  an  abundant  sweat  streamed  over 
his  countenance,  contracted  by  terror;  he 
spoke  in  his  dream,  but  his  words  were 
brief  and  broken,  and  accompanied  with 
convulsive  starts. 

"  Again  that  dream  !  "  said  Faringhea 
to  the  negro.  *'  Always  the  remembrance 
of  that  man." 

"What   man?"    * 

"  Do  you  not  remember,  how,  five  years 
ago, that  savage  Colonel  Kennedy,  butcher 


THE  WANDERING   JEW.  319 

of  the  Indians,  came  to  the  banks  of  the 
Ganges,  to  hunt  the  tiger,  with  twenty 
horses,four  elephants,  and  fifty  servants?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  negro ;  "  and  we 
three,  hunters  of  men,  made  a  better 
day's  sport  than  he  did.  Kennedy,  his 
horses,  his  elephants,  and  his  numerous 
servants,  did  not  get  their  tiger — but  we 
got  ours,"  he  added,  with  grim  irony. 
"Yes;  Kennedy,  that  tiger  with  a  human 
face,  fell  into  our  ambush,  and  the  Bro- 
thers of  the  Good  Work  offered  up  their 
fine  prey  to  our  goddess  Bowanee." 

"  If  you  remember,  it  was  just  at  the 
moment  when  we  gave  the  last  tug  to  the 
cord  round  Kennedy's  neck  that  we  per- 
ceived on  a  sudden  a  traveler  close  at 
hand.  He  had  seen  us,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  make  away  with  him.  Now,  since 
that  time,"  added  Faringhea,  "the  re- 
membrance of  the  murder  of  that  man 
pursues  our  brother  in  his  dreams,"  and 
he  pointed  to  the  sleeping  Indian. 

"And  even  when  he  is  awake,"  said 
the  negro,  looking  at  Faringhea  with  a 
significant  air. 

"Listen  !  "  said  the  other,  again  point- 
ing to  the  Indian,  who,  in  the  agitation  of 
his  dream,  recommenced  talking  in  abrupt 
sentences ;  "  listen  !  he  is  repeating  the 
answers  of  the  traveler,  when  we  told 


820  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

him  lie  must  die,  or  serve  with  us  on 
Thuggee.  His  mind  is  still  impressed — 
deeply  impressed — with  those  words." 

And  in  fact,  the  Indian  repeated  aloud 
in  his  sleep  a  sort  of  mysterious  dialogue, 
of  which  he  himself  supplied  both  ques- 
tions and  answers. 

"  Traveler,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  broken 
by  sudden  pauses,  "  why  that  black  mark 
on  your  forehead,  stretching  from  one  tem- 
ple to  the  other  ?  It  is  a  mark  of  doom, 
and  your  look  is  sad  as  death.  Have 
3^ou  been  a  victim  ?  come  with  us  ;  Kallee 
will  avenge  you.  You  have  suffered  ?  " — 
"Yes,  I  have  greatly  suffered." — "For 
a  long  time?" — "Yes,  for  a  very  long 
time." — "You  suffer  even  now?  " — "Yes, 
even  now." — "What  do  you  reserve  for 
those  who  injure  you  ?  " — "  My  pity." — 
"  Will  you  not  render  blow  for  blow  ?  " — 
"I  will  return  love  for  hate." — "Who 
are  you,  then,  that  render  good  for  evil  ?" 
— •'  I  am  one  who  loves,  and  suffers,  and 
forgives." 

"  Brother,  do  you  hear  ?  "  said  the  negro 
to  Faringhea ;  "  he  has  not  forgotten  the 
words  of  the  traveler  before  his  death." 

"The  vision  follows  him.  Listen!  he 
will  speak  again.  How  pale  he  is!" 
Still  under  the  influence  of  his  drearfi, 
the  Indian  continued: 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  321 

"Traveler,  we  are  three;  we  are  brave; 
we  have  your  life  in  our  hands — you  have 
seen  us  sacrifice  to  the  good  work.  Be 
one  of  us,  or  die — die — die!  Oh,  that  look! 
Not  thus — do  not  look  at  me  thus  !  "  As 
he  uttered  these  last  words,  the  Indian 
made  a  sudden  movement,  as  if  to  keep 
off  some  approaching-  object,  and  awoke 
with  a  start.  Theh,  passing  his  hand 
over  his  moist  forehead,  he  looked  round 
him  with  a  bewildered  eye. 

"  What  !  again  this  dream,  brother  ?  " 
said  Faringhea.  "  For  a  bold  hunter  of 
men,  you  have  a  weak  head.  Luckily, 
you  have  a  strong  heart  and  arm." 

The  other  remained  silent,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands ;  then  he  replied  : 
"  It  is  long  since  I  last  dreamed  of  that 
traveler." 

"Is  he  not  dead ?  "  said  Faringhea, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  Did  you  not 
yourself  throw  the  cord  around  his  neck?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Indian,  shuddering. 

"Did  we  not  dig  his  grave  by  the  side 
of  Colonel  Kennedy's  ?  Did  we  not  bury 
him  with  the-  English  butcher,  under  the 
sand  and  the  rushes  ?  "  said  the  negro. 

"  Yes,  we  dug  his  grave,"  said  the  In- 
dian, trembling ;  "  and  yet,  only  a  year 
ago,  I  was  seated  one  evening  at  the 
gate  of  Bombay,  waiting  for  one  of  our 


822  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

brothers — the  sun  was  setting1  behind  the 
pagoda,  to  the  right  of  the  little  hill — the 
scene  is  all  before  me  now — I  was  seated 
under  a  fig-tree — when  I  heard  a  slow, 
firm,  even  step,  and,  as  I  turned  round 
my  head — I  saw  him — coming  out  of  the 
town." 

"  A  vision,"  said  the  negro  ;  "always 
the  same  vision." 

"A  vision,"  added  Faringhea,  "or  a 
vague  resemblance." 

' '  I  knew  him  by  the  black  mark  on  his 
forehead;  it  was  none  but  he.  I  remained 
motionless  with  fear,  gazing  at  him  with 
eyes  aghast.  He  stopped,  bending  upon 
me  his  calm  sad  look.  In  spite  of  myself, 
I  could  not  help  exclaiming  :  '  It  is  he  ! ' 
— '  Yes, '  he  replied,  in  his  gentle  voice, 
'  it  is  I.  Since  all  whom  thou  'killest  must 
needs  live  again,'  and  he  pointed  to  hea- 
ven as  he  spoke,  '  why  shouldst  thou  kill  ? 
Hear  me  !  I  have  just  come  from  Java : 
I  am  going  to  the  other  end  of  the  world, 
to  a  country  of  never-melting  snow ;  but, 
here  or  there,  on  plains  of  fire  or  plains  of 
ice,  I  shall  still  be  the  same.  Even  so  is 
it  with  the  souls  of  those  who  fall  beneath 
thy  kalleepra  ;  in  this  world  or  up  above, 
in  this  garb  or  in  another,  the  soul  must 
still  be  a  soul;  thou  canst  not  smite  it. 
Why  then  kill  ?  '—and  shaking  his  head 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  323 

sorrowfully,  he  went  on  his  way,  walking 
slowly,  with  downcast  eyes  ;  he  ascended 
the  hill  of  the  pagoda ;  I  watched  him  as 
he  went,  without  being1  able  to  move :  at 
the  moment  the  sun  set,  he  was  standing 
on  the  summit  of  the  hill,  his  tall  figure 
thrown  out  against  the  sky — and  so  he 
disappeared.  Oh!  it  was  he  !  "  added  the 
Indian  with  a  shudder,  after  a  long  pause: 
"  it  was  none  but  he." 

In  this  story  the  Indian  had  never 
varied,  though  he  had  often  entertained 
his  companions  with  the  same  mysterious 
adventure.  This  persistency  on  his  part 
had  the  effect  of  shaking  their  incredulity, 
or  at  least  of  inducing  them  to  seek  some 
natural  cause  for  this  apparently  super- 
human event. 

''Perhaps,"  said  Faringhea,  after  a 
moment's  reflection,  "  the  knot  round 
the  traveler's  neck  got  jammed,  and 
some  breath  was  left  in  him,  the  air 
may  have  penetrated  the  rushes,  with 
which  we  covered  his  grave,  and  so  life 
have  returned  to  him." 

"No,  no,"  said  the  Indian,  shaking  his 
head;  "this  man  is  not  of  our  race." 

"Explain." 

"Now  I  know  it." 

"What  do  you  know?" 

"  Listen,"  said  the  Indian,  in  a  solemn 


824  THE  WANDKB1NG  JBW. 

voice  ;  ' '  the  number  of  victims  that  the 
children  of  Bowanee  have  sacrificed  since 
the  commencement  of  ages  is  nothing 
compared  to  the  immense  heap  of  dead 
and  dying1  whom  this  terrible  traveler 
leaves  behind  him  in  his  murderous 
march." 

"  He  ?  "  cried  the  negro  and  Faringhea. 

"  Yes,  he  !  "  repeated  the  Hindoo,  with 
a  convinced  accent  that  made  its  impres- 
sion upon  his  companions.  "  Hear  me 
and  tremble ! — When  I  met  this  traveler 
at  the  gates  of  Bombay,  he  came  from 
Java,  and  was  going  toward  the  north, 
he  said.  The  very  next  day,  the  town 
was  a  prey  to  the  cholera,  and  we  learned, 
some  time  after,  that  this  plague  had  first 
broken  out  here,  in  Java." 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  negro. 

"  Hear  me  still  further  !  "  resumed  the 
other.  "  'I  am  going  toward  the  north, 
to  a  country  of  eternal  snow,'  said  the 
traveler  to  me.  The  cholera  also  went 
toward  the  north,  passing  through  Mus- 
cat— Ispahan — Tauris — Tiflis — till  it  over- 
whelmed Siberia." 

"True,"  said  Faringhea,  becoming 
thoughtful. 

"And  the  cholera,"  resumed  the  In- 
dian, "only  traveled  its  five  or  six 
leagues  a  day — a  man's  tramp — never 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  825 

appeared  in  two  places  at  once — but 
swept  on  slowly,  steadily — even  as  a  man 
proceeds." 

At  the  mention  of  this  strange  coinci- 
dence, the  Hindoo's  companions  looked 
at  each  other  in  amazement.  After  a 
silence  of  some  minutes,  the  awestruck 
negro  said  to  the  last  speaker  :  "So  you 
think  that  this  man — " 

"  I  think  that  this  man,  whom  we  killed, 
restored  to  life  by  some  infernal  divinity, 
has  been  commissioned  to  bear  this  ter- 
rible scourge  over  the  earth,  and  to 
scatter  round  his  steps  that  death  from 
which  he  is  himself  secure.  Remember  !  " 
added  the  Indian,  with  gloom}'  enthusiasm, 
"  this  awful  wayfarer  passed  through 
Java  —  the  cholera  wasted  Java.  He 
passed  through  Bomba}^  —  the  cholera 
wasted  Bombay.  He  went  'toward  the 
north — the  cholera  wasted  the  north." 

So  saying,  the  Indian  fell  into  a  pro- 
found reverie.  The  negro  and  Faringhea 
were  seized  with  gloomy  astonishment. 

The  Indian  spoke  the  truth  as  to  the 
mysterious  march  (still  unexplained)  of 
that  fearful  malady,  which  has  never 
been  known  to  Travel  more  than  five  or 
six  leagues  a  day,  or  to  appear  simul- 
taneously in  two  spots.  Nothing  can  be 
more  curious  than  to  trace  out,  on  the 


326  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

maps  prepared  at  the  period  in  question, 
the  slow,  progressive  course  of  this  trav- 
eling- pestilence,  which  offers  to  the  as- 
tonished eye  all  the  capricious  incidents 
of  a  tourist's  journey.  Passing  this  way 
rather  than  that — selecting  provinces  in 
a  country  —  towns  in  a  province  —  one 
quarter  in  a  town — one  street  in  a  quar- 
ter— one  house  in  a  street — having  its 
place  of  residence  and  repose,  and  then 
continuing  its  slow,  mysterious,  fear  in- 
spiring march. 

The  words  of  the  Hindoo,  by  drawing 
attention  to  these  dreadful  eccentricities, 
made  a  strong  impression  upon  the  minds 
of  the  negro  and  Faringhea — wild  nat- 
ures, brought  by  horrible  doctrines  to 
the  monomania  of  murder. 

Yes — for  this  also  is  an  established  fact 
— there  have  been  in  India  members  of  an 
abominable  community,  who  killed  with- 
out motive,  without  passion — killed  for 
the  sake  of  killing — for  the  pleasure  of 
murder — to  substitute  death  for  life — to 
make  a  living  man  a  corpse,  as  they  have 
themselves  declared  in  one  of  their  exami- 
nations. 

The  mind  loses  itself  in  the  attempt  to 
penetrate  the  causes  of  these  monstrous 
phenomena.  By  what  incredible  series 
of  events  have  men  been  induced  to  de- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  827 

vote  themselves  to  this  priesthood  of 
destruction  ?  Without  doubt,  such  a 
religion  could  only  flourish  in  countries 
given  up,  like  India,  to  the  most  atro- 
cious slavery,  and  to  the  most  merciless 
iniquity  of  man  to  man. 

Such  a  creed  ! — is  it  not  the  hate  of 
exasperated  humanity,  wound  up  to  its 
highest  pitch  by  oppression  ? — May  not 
this  homicidal  sect,  whose  origin  is  lost 
in  the  night  of  ages,  have  been  perpetu- 
ated in  these  regions,  as  the  only  pos- 
sible protest  of  slavery  against  despot- 
ism ?  May  not  an  inscrutable  wisdom 
have  here  made  Phansegars,  even  as  are 
made  tigers  and  serpents  ? 

What  is  most  remarkable  in  this  awful 
sect  is  the  mysterious  bond,  which,  unit- 
ing its  members  among  themselves, 
separates  them  from  all  other  men. 
They  have  laws  and  customs  of  their 
own,  they  support  and  help  each  other, 
but  for  them  there  is  neither  country 
nor  family ;  they  owe  no  allegiance  save 
to  a  dark,  invisible  power,  whose  decrees 
they  obey  with  blind  submission,  and  in 
Whose  name  they  spread  themselves 
abroad,  to  make  corpses,  according  to 
their  own  savage  expression.  * 

*The  following1  are  some  passages  from  the 
Count  de  Warren's  very  curious  book,  "  British 


828  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

For  some  moments  the  three  Stranglers 
had  maintained  a  profound  silence. 

Outside  the  hut,  the  moon  continued  to 
throw  great  masses  of  white  radiance,  and 
tall  bluish  shadows,  over  the  imposing- 
fabric  of  the  ruins ;  the  stars  sparkled  in 
the  heavens ;  from  time  to  time  a  faint 
breeze  rustled  through  the  thick  and  var- 
nished leaves  of  the  bananas  and  the 
palms. 

India  in  1831": — "Besides  the  robbers,  who  kill 
for  the  sake  of  the  booty  they  hope  to  find  upon 
travelers,  there  is  a  class  of  assassins,  forming  an 
organized  society,  with  chiefs  of  their  own,  a 
slang-language,  a  science,  a  freemasonry,  and 
even  a  religion,  which  has  its  fanaticism  and  its 
devotion,  its  agents,  emissaries,  allies,  its  mili- 
tant forces,  and  its  passive  adherents,  who  con- 
tribute their  money  to  the  good  work.  This  is 
the  community  of  the  Thugs  or  Phansegars  (de- 
ceivers or  stranglers,  from  thugna,  to  deceive,  and 
phansna,  to  strangle),  a  religious  and  economical 
society,  which  speculates  with  the  human  race  by 
exterminating  men  ;  its  origin  is  lost  in  the  night 
of  ages. 

"  Until  1810  their  existence  was  unknown,  not 
only  to  the  European  conquerors,  but  even  to  the 
native  governments.  Between  the  years  1816  and 
1830,  several  of  their  bands  were  taken  in  the  fact, 
and  punished  ;  but,  until  this  last  epoch,  all  the 
revelations  made  on  the  subject  by  officers  of 
great  experience,  had  appeared  too  monstrous 
to  obtain  the  attention  or  belief  of  the  public ; 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  829 

The  pedestal  of  the  gig-antic  statue, 
which,  still  entire,  stood  on  the  left  side 
of  the  portico,  rested  upon  large  flag- 
stones, half  hidden  with  brambles.  Sud- 
denly, one  of  these  stones  appeared  to  fall 
in ;  and  from  the  aperture  which  thus 
formed  itself  without  noise  a  man,  dressed 
in  uniform,  half  protruded  his  body,  looked 
carefully  around  him,  and  listened. 

Seeing  the  rays  of    the    lamp,   which 

they  had  been  rejected  and  despised  as  the  dreams 
of  a  heated  imagination.  And  yet,  for  many 
years,  at  the  very  least  for  half  a  century,  this 
social  wound  had  been  frightfully  on  the  increase, 
devouring  the  population  from  the  Himalayas  to 
Cape  Comorin,  and  from  Cutch  to  Assam. 

"  It  was  in  the  year  1830  that  the  revelations 
of  a  celebrated  chief,  whose  life  was  spared  on 
condition  of  his  denouncing  his  accomplices,  laid 
bare  the  whole  system.  The  basis  of  the  Thug- 
gee Society  is  a  religious  belief — the  worship  of 
Bowanee,  a  gloomy  divinity,  who  is  only  pleased 
with  carnage,  and  detests  above  all  things  the 
human  race.  Her  most  agreeable  sacrifices  are 
human  victims,  and  the  more  of  these  her  disciple 
may  have  offered  up  in  this  world,  the  more  he 
will  be  recompensed  in  the  next  by  all  the  de- 
lights of  soul  and  sense,  by  women  always 
beautiful,  and  joys  eternally  renewed.  If  the . 
assassin  meets  the  scaffold  in  his  career,  he  dies 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  martyr,  because  he 
expects  his  reward.  To  obey  his  divine  mistress, 
he  murders  without  anger  and  without  remorse, 


330  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

lighted  the  interior  of  the  hovel,  tremble 
upon  the  tall  grass,  he  turned  round  to 
make  a  signal,  and  soon,  accompanied  by 
two  other  soldiers,  he  ascended,  with  the 
greatest  silence  and  precaution,  the  last 
steps  of  the  subterranean  staircase,  and 
went  gliding  among  the  ruins.  For  a 
few  moments  their  moving  shadows  were 
thrown  upon  the  moonlit  ground ;  then 
they  disappeared  behind  some  fragments 
of  broken  wall. 

the  old  man,  woman  and  child  ;  while,  to  his  fel- 
low-religionists, he  may  be  charitable,  humane, 
generous,  devoted,  and  may  share  all  in  common 
with  them,  because,  like  himself,  they  are  the 
ministers  and  adopted  children  of  Bowanee.  The 
destruction  of  his  fellow-creatures,  not  belonging 
to  his  community — the  diminution  of  the  human 
race — that  is  the  primary  object  of  his  pursuit ; 
it  is  not  as  a  means  of  gain,  for,  though  plunder 
may  be  frequent  and  doubtless  an  agreeable  ac- 
cessory, it  is  only  secondary  in  his  estimation. 
Destruction  is  his  end,  his  celestial  mission,  his 
calling ;  it  is  also  a  delicious  passion,  the  most 
captivating  of  all  sports — this  hunting  of  men  ! — 
'  You  find  great  pleasure,'  said  one  of  those  that 
were  condemned,  '  in  tracking  the  wild  beast  to 
his  den,  in  attacking  the  boar,  the  tiger,  because 
•  there  is  danger  to  brave,  energy  and  courage  to 
display.  Think  how  this  attraction  must  be  re- 
doubled, when  the  contest  is  with  man,  when  it 
is  man  who  is  to  be  destroyed.  Instead  of  the 
single  faculty  of  courage,  all  must  be  called  into 


THB  WANDERING  JEW.  881 

At  the  instant  when  the  large  stone  re- 
sumed its  place  and  level,  the  heads  of 
many  other  soldiers  might  have  been  seen 
lying-  close  in  the  excavation.  The  half- 
caste,  the  Indian,  and  the  negro,  still 
seated  thoughtfully  in  the  hut,  did  not 
perceive  what  was  passing. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE   AMBUSCADE. 

THE  half-blooded  Faringhea,  wishing 
doubtless  to  escape  from  the  dark  thoughts 
which  the  words  of  the  Indian  on  the  mys- 
terious course  of  the  cholera  had  raised 

action — courage,  cunning,  foresight,  eloquence, 
intrigue.  What  springs  to  put  in  motion  !  what 
plans  to  develop  !  To  sport  with  all  the  passions, 
to  touch  the  chords  of  love  and  friendship,  and  so 
draw  the  prey  into  cu:'::  :::'- — '.-hat  is  a  glorious 
chase— it  is  a  delight,  a  rapture,  I  tell  you.' 

"  Whoever  was  in  India  in  the  years  1831  and 
1832,  must  remember  the  stupor  and  affright 
which  the  discovery  of  this  vast  infernal  machine 
spread  through  all  classes  of  society.  A  great 
number  of  magistrates  and  administrators  of 
provinces  refused  to  believe  in  it,  and  could  not 
be  brought  to  comprehend  that  such  a  system 
had  so  long  preyed  on  the  body  politic,  under 
their  eyes,  as  it  were,  silently,  and  without  be- 
traying itself."— See  "  British  India  in  1831,"  by 
Count  Edward  de  Warren,  2  vols,  in  8vo.  Paris, 
1844.— E.  8. 


332  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

within  him,  abruptly  changed  the  subject 
of  conversation.  His  eye  shone  with  lurid 
fire,  and  his  countenance  took  an  expres- 
sion of  savage  enthusiasm,  as  he  cried  : 
"Bowanee  will  always  watch  over  us,  in- 
trepid hunters  of  men  !  Courage,  brothers, 
courage  !  The  world  is  large  ;  our  prey 
is  everywhere.  The  English  may  force  us 
to  quit  India,  three  chiefs  of  the  good  work 
— but  what  matter  ?  We  leave  there  our 
brethren,  secret,  numerous,  and  terrible, 
as  black  as  scorpions,  whose  presence  is 
only  known  by  their  mortal  sting.  Exile 
will  widen  our  domains.  Brother,  you 
shall  have  America ! "  said  he  to  the 
Hindoo,  with  an  inspired  air.  "  Brother, 
you  shall  have  Africa !  "  said  he  to  the 
negro.  "  Brothers,  I  will  take  Europe  ! 
Wherever  men  are  to  be  found,  there 
must  be  oppressors  and  victims— wherever 
there  are  victims,  there  must  be  hearts 
swollen  with  hate — it  is  for  us  to  inflame 
that  hate  with  all  the  ardor  of  vengeance  ! 
It  is  for  us,  servants  of  Bowanee,  to  draw 
toward  us,  by  seducing  wiles,  all  whose 
zeal,  courage,  and  audacity  may  be  useful 
to  the  cause.  Let  us  rival  each  other  in 
devotion  and  sacrifices ;  let  us  lend  each 
other  strength,  help,  support !  That  all 
who  are  not  with  us  may  be  our  prey,  let 
us  stand  alone  in  the  midst  of  all,  against 


THE  WANDERING  JBW.  888 

all,  and  in  spite  of  all.  For  us,  there  must 
be  neither  country  nor  family.  Our  family 
is  composed  of  our  brethren  ;  our  country 
is  the  world." 

This  kind  of  savage  eloquence  made  a 
deep  impression  on  the  negro  and  the 
Indian,  over  whom  Faringhea  generally 
exercised  considerable  influence,  his  intel- 
lectual powers  being  very  superior  to 
theirs,  though  they  were  themselves  two 
of  the  most  eminent  chiefs  of  this  bloody 
association.  "  Yes,  you  are  right,  bro- 
ther !  "  cried  the  Indian,  sharing  the  en- 
thusiasm of  Faringhea;  "the  world  is 
ours.  Even  here,  in  Java,  let  us  leave 
some  trace  of  our  passage.  Before  we 
depart,  let  us  establish  the  good  work  in 
this  island  ;  it  will  increase  quickly,  for 
here  also  is  great  misery,  and  the  Dutch 
are  rapacious  as  the  English.  Brother,  I 
have  seen  in  the  marsh 3-  rice-fields  of  this 
island,  always  fatal  to  those  who  cultivate 
them,  men  whom  absolute  want  forced  to 
the  deadly  task — they  were  livid  as  corpses 
— some  of  them,  worn  out  with  sickness, 
fatigue  and  hunger,  fell — never  to  rise 
again.  Brothers,  the  good  work  will  pros- 
per in  this  country  !  " 

"  The  other  evening,"  said  the  half- 
caste,  "  I  was  on  the  banks  of  the  lake, 
behind  a  rock ;  a  young  woman  came 


834  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

there — a  few  rag's  hardly  covered  her  lean 
and  sun-scorched  body — in  her  arms  she 
held  a  little  child,  which  she  pressed  weep- 
ing1 to  her  milkless  breast.  She  kissed  it 
three  times,  and  said  to  it :  *  You,  at 
least,  shall  not  be  so  unhappy  as  your 
father ' — and  she  threw  it  into  the  lake. 
It  uttered  one  wail,  and  disappeared.  On 
ttiis  cry,  the  alligators,  hidden  among  the 
reeds,  leaped  joyfully  into  the  water. 
There  are  mothers  here  who  kill  their 
children  out  of  pity. — Brothers,  the  good 
work  will  prosper  in  this  country.'' 

"  This  morning, "  said  the  negro,  "  while 
they  tore  the  flesh  of  one  of  his  black 
slaves  with  whips,  a  withered  old  mer- 
chant of  Batavia  left  his  country-house  to 
come  to  the  town.  Lolling  in  his  palanquin, 
he  received,  with  languid  indolence,  the 
sad  caresses  of  two  of  those  girls,  whom 
he  had  bought,  to  people  his  harem,  from 
parents  too  poor  to  give  them  food.  The 
palanquin,  which  held  this  little  man  and 
the  girls,  was  carried  by  twelve  young- 
and  robust  men.  There  are  here,  you  see, 
mothers  who  in  their  misery  sell  their  own 
daughters — slaves  that  are  scourged — 
men  that  carry  other  men,  like  beasts  of 
burden. — Brothers,  the  good  work  will 
prosper  in  this  country." 

"  Yes,   in  this  country — and  in   every 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  835 

land  of  oppression,  distress,  corruption, 
and  slavery." 

"  Could  we  but  induce  Djalma  to  join  us, 
as  Mahal  the  Smuggler  advised,"  said  the 
Indian,  "our  voyage  to  Java  would  doubly 
profit  us  ;  for  we  should  then  number 
among-  our  band  this  brave  and  enterpris- 
ing- youth,  who  has  so  many  motives  to 
hate  mankind." 

"  He  will  soon  be  here  ;  let  us  envenom 
his  resentments." 

"  Remind  him  of  his  father's  death  ! " 

"  Of  the  massacre  of  his  people  !  " 

"  His  own  captivity  !  " 

"  Only  let  hatred  inflame  his  heart,  and 
he  will  be  ours." 

The  negro,  who  had  remained  for  some 
time  lost  in  thought,  said  suddenly : 
"  Brothers  1  suppose  Mahal  the  Smuggler 
were  to  betray  us  ?  " 

"  He  ?  "  cried  the  Hindoo,  almost  with 
indignation  ;  "  he  gave  us  an  asylum  on 
board  his  bark ;  he  secured  our  flight  from 
the  continent ;  he  is  again  to  take  us  with 
him  to  Bombay,  where  we  shall  find  ves- 
sels fof  America,  Europe,  Africa." 

"  What  interest  would  Mahal  have  to 
betray  us  ?  "  said  Faringhea. 

"  Nothing  could  save  him  from  the  ven- 
geance of  Bowanee,  and  that  he  knows." 

"Well,"  said  the  black,  "he  promised 


336  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

to  get  Djalma  to  come  hither  this  evening, 
and,  once  among  us,  he  must  needs  be  our 
own." 

"  Was  it  not  the  Smuggler  who  told  us 
to  order  the  Malay  to  enter  the  ajoupa  of 
Djalma,  to  surprise  him  during  his  sleep, 
and,  instead  of  killing  him  as  he  might 
have  done,  to  trace  the  name  of  Bowanee 
upon  his  arm  ?  Djalma  will  thus  learn  to 
judge  of  the  resolution,  the  cunning  and 
obedience  of  our  brethren,  and  he  will 
understand  what  he  has  to  hope  or  fear 
from  such  men.  Be  it  through  admiration 
or  through  terror,  he  must  become  one  of 
us." 

"  But  if  he  refuse  to  join  us,  notwith- 
standing the  reasous  he  has  to  hate  man- 
kind ?  " 

"Then — Bowanee  will  decide  his  fate," 
said  Faringhea,  with  a  gloomy  look;  "I 
have  my  plan." 

"  But  will  the  Malay  succeed  in  surpris- 
ing Djalma  during  his  sleep  ?  "  said  the 
negro. 

"There  is  none  bolder,  more  agile,  more 
dexterous,  than  the  Malay,"  said  Faring- 
hea. "  He  once  had  the  daring  to  surprise 
in  her  den  a  black  panther,  as  she  suckled 
her  cub.  He  killed  the  dam,  and  took 
awa3r  the  3roung  one,  which  he  afterward 
sold  to  some  European  ship's  captain." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  337 

"  The  Malay  has  succeeded  !  "  exclaimed 
the  Indian,  listening-  to  a  singular  kind  of 
hoot,  which  sounded  through  the  profound 
silence  of  the  night  and  of  the  wood. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  scream  of  the  vulture 
seizing-  its  prey,"  said  the  negro,  listening 
in  his  turn :  "  it  is  also  the  signal  of  our 
brethren,  after  they  have  seized  their 
prey." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  Malay  appeared  at 
the  door  of  the  hut.  He  had  wound  around 
him  a  broad  length  of  cotton,  adorned  with 
bright  colored  stripes. 

"Well,"  said  the  negro,  anxiously; 
"  have  jrou  succeeded  ?  " 

"  Djalma  must  bear  all  his  life  the  mark 
of  the  good  work,"  said  the  Malay  proudly. 
"  To  reach  him  I  was  forced  to  offer  up  to 
Bowanee  a  man  who  crossed  my  path — I 
have  left  his  body  under  the  brambles, 
near  the  ajoupa.  But  Djalma  is  marked 
with  a  sign.  Mahal  the  Smuggler  was  the 
first  to  know  it." 

"  And  Djalma  did  not  awake  ?  "  said 
the  Indian,  confounded  by  the  Malay's 
adroitness. 

"Had  he  awoke,"  replied  the  other, 
calmly,  "  I  should  have  been  a  dead  man 
— as  I  was  charged  to  spare  his  life." 

"  Because  his  life  may  be  more  useful  to 
us  than  his  death,"  said  the  half-caste. 
VOL.  1—15 


838  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Then,  addressing-  the  Malay,  he  added  : 
"  Brother,  in  risking-  life  for  the  good  work, 
you  have  done  to-day  what  we  did  yester- 
day, what  we  may  do  ag-ain  to-morrow. 
This  time  you  obey  ;  another,  you  will 
command." 

"  We  all  belong  to  Bowanee,"  answered 
the  Malay.  "  What  is  there  yet  to  do  ? — 
I  am  ready."  While  he  thus  spoke,  his 
face  was  turned  toward  the  door  of  the 
hut ;  on  a  sudden,  he  said  in  a  low  voice : 
"  Here  is  Djalma.  He  approaches  the 
cabin.  Mahal  has  not  deceived  us." 

'•'  He  must  not  see  me  yet,"  said  Faring- 
hea,  retiring  to  an  obscure  corner  of  the 
cabin,  and  hiding  himself  under  a  Ninat ; 
' '  try  to  persuade  him.  If  he  resists — I 
have  my  project." 

Hardly  had  Faringhea  disappeared,  say- 
ing these  words,  when  Djalma  arrived  at 
the  door  of  the  hovel.  At  sight  of  those 
three  personages  with  their  forbidding 
aspect,  Djalma  started  in  surprise.  But 
ignorant  that  these  men  belonged  to  the 
Phansegars,  and  knowing  that,  in  a 
country  where  there  are  no  inns,  travelers 
often  pass  the  night  under  a  tent,  or  be- 
neath the  shelter  of  some  ruins,  he  con- 
tinued to  advance  toward  them.  After 
the  first  moment,  he  perceived  by  the 
complexion  and  the  dress  of  one  of  these 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  339 

men,  that  he  was  an  Indian,  and  he  ac- 
costed him  in  the  Hindoo  language :  "  I 
thought  to  have  found  here  a  European — 
a  Frenchman — " 

"The  Frenchman  is  not  yet  come/'  re- 
plied the  Indian;  "but  he  will  not  be  long." 

Guessing  by  Djalma's  question  the 
means  which  Mahal  had  employed  to  draw 
him  into  the  snare,  the  Indian  hoped  to 
gain  time  bjr  prolonging  his  error. 

"  You  knew  this  Frenchman  ?  "  asked 
Djalma  of  the  Phansegar. 

"  He  appointed  us  to  meet  him  here,  as 
he  did  you,"  answered  the  Indian. 

"  For  what?  "  inquired  Djalma,  more 
and  more  astonished. 

"  You  will  know  when  he  arrives." 

"  General  Simon  told  you  to  be  at  this 
place  ?  " 

"  Yes,  General  Simon,"  replied  the 
Indian. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  during 
which  Djalma  sought  in  vain  to  explain  to 
himself  this  mysterious  adventure.  "And 
who  are  you  ?  "  asked  he,  with  a  look  of 
suspicion  ;  for  the  gloomy  silence  of  the 
Phansegar's  two  companions,  who  stared 
fixedly  at  each  other,  began  to  give  him 
some  uneasiness. 

"We  are  yours,  if  you  will  be  ours," 
answered  the  Indian. 


340  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  I  have  no  need  of  you — nor  you  of  me." 

"  Who  knows  ?  " 

"I  know  it." 

"  You  are  deceived.  The  English  killed 
your  father,  a  king1 ;  made  you  a  captive ; 
proscribed  you,  you  have  lost  all  your  pos- 
sessions." 

At  this  cruel  reminder,  the  countenance 
of  Djalma  darkened.  He  started,  and  a 
bitter  smile  curled  his  lip.  The  Phanse- 
gar  continued  : 

"  Your  father  was  just  and  brave — be- 
loved by  his  subjects  —  they  called  him 
'Father  of  the  Generous/  and  he  was 
well  named.  Will  you  leave  his  death  un- 
avenged ?  Will  the  hate,  which  gnaws 
your  heart,  be  without  fruit  ?  " 

"  My  father  died  with  arms  in  his  hand. 
I  revenged  his  death  on  the  English  whom 
I  killed  in  war.  He,  who  has  since  been  a 
father  to  me,  and  who  fought  also  in  the 
same  cause,  told  me  that  it  would  now  be 
madness  to  attempt  to  recover  my  terri- 
tory from  the  English.  When  they  gave 
me  my  liberty,  I  swore  never  again  to  set 
foot  in  India  —  and  I  keep  the  oaths  I 
make." 

"Those  who  despoiled  you,  who  took 
you  captive,  who  killed  your  father — "were 
men.  Are  there  not  other  men  on  whom 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  341 

you  can  avenge  yourself  ?    Let  your  hate 
fall  upon  them  !  " 

"  You,  who  speak  thus  of  men,  are  not 
a  man  ! " 

"I,  and  those  who  resemble  me,  are 
more  than  men.  We  are,  to  the  rest  of 
the  human  race,  what  the  bold  hunter  is 
to  the  wild  beasts,  which  they  run  down 
in  the  forest.  Will  you  be,  like  us,  more 
than  a  man?  Will  you  glut  surely, 
largely,  safely,  the  hate  which  devours 
your  heart,  for  all  the  evil  done  you  ?  " 

"Your  words  become  more  and  more 
obscure  :  I  have  no  hatred  in  my  heart/' 
said  Djalma.  "  When  an  enemy  is  wor- 
thy of  me,  I  fight  with  him ;  when  he  is 
unworthy,  I  despise  him.  So  that  I  have 
no  hate — either  for  brave  men  or  cow- 
ards." 

"Treachery!"  cried  the  negro,  on  a 
sudden,  pointing  with  rapid  gesture  to 
the  door,  for  Djalma  and  the  Indian  had 
now  withdrawn  a  little  from  it,  and  were 
standing  in  one  corner  of  the  hovel. 

At  the  shout  of  the  negro,  Faringhea, 
who  had  not  been  perceived  by  Djalma, 
threw  off  the  mat  which  covered  him, 
drew  his  crease,  started  up  like  a  tiger, 
and  with  one  bound  was  out  of  the  cabin. 
Then,  seeing  a  body  of  soldiers  advancing 
cautiously  in  a  circle,  he  dealt  one  of  them 


842  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

a  mortal  stroke,  threw  down  two  others, 
and  disappeared  in  the  midst  of  the  ruins. 
All  this  passed  so  instantaneously,  that, 
when  Djalma  turned  round,  to  ascertain 
the  cause  of  the  negro's  cry  of  alarm, 
Faringhea  had  already  disappeared. 

The  muskets  of  several  soldiers,  crowd- 
ing1 to  the  door,  were  immediately  pointed 
at  Djalma  and  the  three  Stranglers,  while 
others  went  in  pursuit  of  Faringhea.  The 
negro,  the  Malay,  and  the  Indian,  seeing 
the  impossibility  of  resistance,  exchanged 
a  few  rapid  words,  and  offered  their  hands 
to  the  cords,  with  which  some  of  the  sol- 
diers had  provided  themselves. 

The  Dutch  captain,  who  commanded  the 
squad,  entered  the  cabin  at  this  moment. 
"And  this  other  one?"  said  he,  pointing  out 
Djalma  to  the  soldiers,  who  were  occupied 
in  binding  the  three  Phansegars. 

"Each  in  his  turn,  captain!"  said  an 
old  sergeant.  "We  come  to  him  next." 

Djalma  had  remained  petrified  with  sur- 
prise, not  understanding  what  was  pass- 
ing round  him ;  but,  when  he  saw  the 
sergeant  and  two  soldiers  approach  with 
ropes  to  bind  him,  he  repulsed  them  with 
violent  indignation,  and  rushed  toward 
the  door  where  stood  the  officer.  Tiie 
soldiers,  who  had  supposed  that  Djalma 
Would  submit  to  his  fate  with  the  same 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  343 

impassibility  as  his  companions,  were  as- 
tonished by  this  resistance,  and  recoiled 
some  paces,  being-  struck,  in  spite  of  them- 
selves, with  the  noble  and  dignified  air  of 
the  son  of  Kadja-sing-. 

"Why  would  you  bind  me  like  these 
men?"  cried  Djalma,  addressing-  himself 
in  Hindostance  to  the  officer,  who  under- 
stood that  language  from  his  long  service 
in  the  Dutch  colonies. 

"Why  would  we  bind  you,  wretch? — 
because  you  form  part  of  this  band  of 
assassins.  What  ?  "  added  the  officer  in 
Dutch,  speaking  to  the  soldiers,  "  are  you 
afraid  of  him  ?  Tie  the  cord  tight  about 
his  wrists  :  there  will  soon  be  another 
about  his  neck." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Djalma,  with 
a  dignity  and  calmness  which  astonished 
the  officer ;  "  I  have  hardly  been  in  this 
place  a  quarter  of  an  hour  —  I  do  not 
know  these  men.  I  came  here  to  meet  a 
Frenchman." 

"Not  a  Phansegar  like  them?  Who 
will  believe  the  falsehood  ?  " 

"  Them !  "  cried  Djalma,  with  so  natural 
a  movement  and  expression  of  horror  that 
with  a  sign  the  officer  stopped  the  soldiers, 
who  were  again  advancing  to  bind  the  son 
of  Kadja-sing;  "these  men  form  part  of 
that  horrible  band  of  murderers  !  and  you 


344  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

accuse  me  of  being-  their  accomplice  !  Oh, 
in  this  case,  sir,  I  am  perfectly  at  ease," 
said  the  young  man,  with  a  smile  of  dis- 
dain. 

"  It  will  not  be  sufficient  to  say  that  you 
are  tranquil,"  replied  the  officer ;  "  thanks 
to  their  confessions,  we  now  know  by  what 
mysterious  signs  to  recognize  the  Thugs." 

"  I  repeat,  sir,  that  I  hold  these  mur- 
derers in  the  greatest  horror,  and  that  I 
came  here — " 

The  negro,  interrupting  Djalma,  said  to 
the  officer  with  a  ferocious  joy :  "  You 
have  hit  it ;  the  sons  of  the  good  work  do 
know  each  other  by  marks  tattooed  on 
their  skin.  For  us,  the  hour  is  come — we 
give  our  necks  to  the  cord.  Often  enough 
have  we  twined  it  round  the  necks  of  those 
who  served  not  with  us  the  good  work. 
Now,  look  at  our  arms,  and  look  at  the 
arm  of  this  youth  !  " 

The  officer,  misinterpreting  the  words 
of  the  negro,  said  to  Djalina  :  "  It  is  quite 
clear,  that  if,  as  this  negro  tells  us,  you 
do  not  bear  on  your  arm  the  mysterious 
symbol — (we  are  going  to  assure  ourselves 
of  the  fact) — and  if  you  can  explain  your 
presence  here  in  a  satisfactory  manner, 
you  may  be  at  liberty  within  two  hours." 

"You  do  not  understand  me,"  said  the 
negro  to  the  officer ;  "  Prince  Djalma  is 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  345 

one  of  us,  for  he  bears  on  his  left  arm  the 
name  of  Bowanee." 

"  Yes  !  he  is  like  us,  a  son  of  Kalle  !  " 
added  the  Malay. 

"  He  is  like  us,  a  Phanseg-ar,"  said  the 
Indian. 

The  three  men,  irritated  at  the  horror 
which  Djalma  had  manifested  on  learning1 
that  they  were  Phansegars,  took  a  savag-e 
pride  in  making  it  be  believed  that  the  son 
of  Kadja-sing  belonged  to  their  frig-htful 
association. 

*'  What  have  you  to  answer  ?  "  said  the 
officer  to  Djalma.  The  latter  again  gave 
a  look  of  disdainful  pity,  raised  with  his 
right  hand  his  long,  wide  left  sleeve,  and 
displayed  his  naked  arm. 

"  What  audacity  !  "  cried  the  officer,  for 
on  the  inner  part  of  the  forearm,  a  little 
below  the  bend,  the  name  of  the  Bowanee, 
in  bright  red  Hindoo  characters,  was  dis- 
tinctly visible.  The  officer  ran  to  the  Ma- 
la}r,  and  uncovered  his  arm ;  he  saw  the 
same  word,  the  same  signs.  Not  yet  sat- 
isfied, he  assured  himself  that  the  negro 
and  the  Indian  were  likewise  so  marked. 

"  Wretch  !  "  cried  he,  turning  furiously 
toward  Djalma ;  "you  inspire  even  more 
horror  than  your  accomplices.  Bind  him 
like  a  cowardly  assassin,  "  added  he  to  the 
soldiers,  "  like  a  cowardly  assassin,  who 


846  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

lies  upon  the  brink  of  the  grave,  for  his 
execution  will  not  be  long1  delayed.  " 

Struck  with  stupor,  Djalma,  who  for 
some  moments  had  kept  his  eye  riveted  on 
the  fatal  mark,  was  unable  to  pronounce 
a  word,  or  make  the  least  movement :  his 
powers  of  thought  seemed  to  fail  him,  in 
presence  of  this  incomprehensible  fact. 

"  Would  you  dare  deny  this  sign  ?  "  said 
the  officer  to  him  with  indignation. 

"  I  cannot  deny  what  I  see — what  is,  " 
said  Djalma,  quite  overcome. 

"  It  is  lucky  that  you  confess  at  last,  " 
replied  the  officer.  "  Soldiers,  keep  watch 
over  him  and  his  accomplices — you  answer 
for  them.  " 

Almost  believing-  himself  the ,  sport  of 
some  wild  dream,  Djalma  offered  no  re- 
sistance, but  allowed  himself  to  be  bound 
and  removed  with  mechanical  passiveness. 
The  officer,  with  part  of  his  soldiers,  hoped 
still  to  discover  Faringhea  among-  the 
ruins;  but  his  search  was  vain,  and,  after 
spending-  an  hour  in  fruitless  endeavors, 
he  set  out  for  Batavia,  where  the  escort 
of  the  prisoners  had  arrived  before  him. 

Some  hours  after  these  events  M.  Joshua 
van  Dael  thus  finished  his  long-  dispatch, 
addressed  to  M.  Rodin  of  Paris  : 

"  Circumstances  were  such  that  I  could 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  347 

not  act  otherVise,  and,  taking-  all  into 
consideration,  it  is  a  very  small  evil  for 
a  great  good.  Three  murderers  are  de- 
livered over  to  justice,  and  the  temporary 
arrest  of  Djalma  will  only  serve  to  make 
his  innocence  shine  forth  with  redoubled 
luster. 

"Already  this  morning,  I  went  to  the 
governor,  to  protest  in  favor  of  our  young 
prince.  '  As  it  was  through  me,  '  I  said, 
'  that  those  three  great  criminals  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  authorities,  let  them  at 
least  show  me  some  gratitude,  by  doing 
everything  to  render  clear  as  day  the  in- 
nocence of  Prince  Djalma,  so  interesting 
by  reason  of  his  misfortunes  and  noble 
qualities.  Most  certainly,'  I  added, 
'when  I  came  yesterday  to  inform  the 
governor  that  the  Phansegars  would  be 
found  assembled  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi, 
I  was  far  from  anticipating  that  any  one 
would  confound  with  those  wretches  the 
adopted  son  of  General  Simon,  an  excellent 
man,  with  whom  I  have  had  for  some  time 
the  most  honorable  relations.  We  must 
then,  at  any  cost,  discover  the  incon- 
ceivable mystery  that  has  placed  Djalma 
in  this  dangerous  position;  and,'  I  con- 
tinued, '  so  convinced  am  I  of  his  inno- 
cence, that,  for  his  own  sake,  I  would  not 
ask  for  any  favor  on  his  behalf.  He  will 


have  sufficient  courage  afcd  dignity  to 
wait  patiently  in  prison  for  the  day  of 
justice.'  In  all  this,  you  see,  I  spoke 
nothing  but  the  truth,  and  had  not  to 
reproach  myself  with  the  least  deception, 
for  nobody  in  the  world  is  more  convinced 
than  I  am  of  Djalma's  innocence. 

"  The  governor  answered  me  as  I  ex- 
pected, -that  morally  he  felt  as  certain  as 
I  did  of  the  innocence  of  the  young  prince, 
and  would  treat  him  with  all  possible  con- 
sideration ;  but  that  it  was  necessary  for 
justice  to  have  its  course,  because  it  would 
be  the  only  way  of  demonstrating  the 
falsehood  of  the  accusation,  and  discover- 
ing by  what  unaccountable  fatality  that 
mysterious  sign  was  tattooed  upon  Djal- 
ma's arm. 

"  Mahal  the  Smuggler,  who  alone  could 
enlighten  justice  on  this  subject,  will 
in  another  hour  have  quitted  Batavia,  to 
go  on  board  the  Ruyter,  which  will  take 
him  to  Egypt ;  for  he  has  a  note  from  me 
to  the  captain,  to  certify  that  he  is  the 
person  for  whom  I  engaged  and  paid 
the  passage.  At  the  same  time,  he  will 
be  the  bearer  of  this  long  dispatch,  for 
the  Ruyter  is  to  sail  in  an  hour,  and  the 
last  letter-bag  for  Europe  was  made  up 
yesterday  evening.  But  I  wished  to  see 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  349 

the  governor  this  morning1,  before  closing1 
the  present. 

"  Thus  then  is  Prince  Djalma  enforc- 
edly detained  for  a  month,  and,  this  op- 
portunity of  the  Ruyter  once  lost,  it  is 
materially  impossible  that  the  young  In- 
dian can  be  in  France  by  the  13th  of  next 
February.  You  see,  therefore,  that,  even 
as  you  ordered,  so  have  I  acted  accord- 
ing to  the  means  at  my  disposal- — consid- 
ering only  the  end  which  justifies  them— 
for  you  tell  me  a  great  interest  of  the 
Society  is  concerned. 

"  In  your  hands,  I  have  been  what  we 
all  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of  our  supe- 
riors— a  mere  instrument :  since,  for  the 
greater  glory  of  God,  we  become  corpses 
with  regard  to  the  will.*  Men  may  deny 
our  unity  and  power,  and  the  times  ap- 
pear opposed  to  us;  but  circumstances 
only  change  ;  we  are  ever  the  same. 

''Obedience  and  courage,  secrecy  and 
patience,  craft  and  audacity,  union  and 
devotion — these  become  us,  who  have  the 


*  It  is  known  that  the  doctrine  of  passive  and 
absolute  obedience,  the  mainspring  of  the  Society 
of  Jesus,  is  summed  up  in  those  terrible  words  of 
the  dying  Loyola  :  "  Every  member  of  the  Order 
shall  be,  in  the  hands  of  his  superiors,  even  as  a 
corpse  (perinde  ac  cadaver)." — E.  S. 


350  THB  WANDERING  JEW. 

world  for  our  country,  our  "brethren  for 
family,  Borne  for  our  queen  !         J.  V." 

About  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  Mahal 
the  Smuggler  set  out  with  this  dispatch 
(sealed)  in  his  possession,  to  board  the 
Ruyter,  An  hour  later,  the  dead  body 
of  this  same  Mahal,  strangled  by  Thug- 
gee, la,y  concealed  beneath  some  reeds  on 
the  edge  of  a  desert  strand,  whither  he 
had  gone  to  take  boat  to  join  the.  vessel. 

When,  at  a  subsequent  period,  after  the 
departure  of  the  steamship,  they  found 
the  corpse  of  the  smuggler,  M.  Joshua 
sought  in  vain  for  the  voluminous  packet 
which  he  had  intrusted  to  his  care. 
Neither  was  there  any  trace  of  the  note 
which  Mahal  was  to  have  delivered  to  the 
captain  of  the  Ruyter.  in  order  to  be 
received  as  passenger. 

Finally,  the  searches  and  bush-whack- 
ing ordered  throughout  the  country  for 
the  purpose  of  discovering  Faringhea 
were  of  no  avail.  The  dangerous  chief 
of  the  Stranglers  was  never  seen  again  in 
Java. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  851 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

M.  RODIN. 

THREE  months  have  elapsed  since  Djal- 
ma  was  thrown  into  Batavia  Prison  ac- 
cused of  belonging-  to  the  murderous  gang 
of  Megpunnas.  The  following"  scene  takes 
place  in  France,  at  the  commencement  of 
the  month  of  February,  1832,  in  Cardo- 
ville  Manor  House,  an  old  feudal  habita- 
tion standing-  upon  the  tall  cliffs  of  Picardy 
not  far  from  Saint  Valery,  a  dang-erous 
coast  on  which  almost  every  year  many 
ships  are  totally  wrecked,  being-  driven  on 
shore  by  the  northwesters,  which  render 
the  navigation  of  the  Channel  so  perilous. 

From  the  interior  of  the  castle  is  heard 
the  howling-  of  a  violent  tempest,  which 
has  arisen  during-  the  night;  a  frequent 
formidable  noise,  like  the  discharg-e  of 
artillery,  thunders  in  the  distance,  and  is 
repeated  by  the  echoes  of  the  shore ;  it  is 
the  sea  breaking  with  fury  against  the 
high  rocks  which  are  overlooked  by  the 
ancient  Manor  House. 

It  is  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Daylight  is  not  yet  visible  throug-h  the 
windows  of  a  large  room  situate  on  the 
ground-floor.  In  this  apartment,  in  which 


g52  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

a  lamp  is  burning,  a  woman  of  about  sixty 
years  of  age,  with  a  simple  and  honest 
countenance,  dressed  as  a  rich  farmer's 
wife  of  Picardy,  is  already  occupied  with 
her  needle-work,  notwithstanding  the  early 
hour.  Close  by,  the  husband  of  this  wo- 
man, about  the  same  age  as  herself,  is 
seated  at  a  large  table,  sorting  and  put- 
ting up  in  bags  divers  samples  of  wheat 
and  oats.  The  face  of  this  white-haired 
man  is  intelligent  and  open,  announcing 
good  sense  and  honesty,  enlivened  by  a 
touch  of  rustic  humor  ;  he  wears  a  shoot- 
ing-jacket of  green  cloth,  and  long  gaiters 
of  tan -colored  leather,  which  half  conceal 
his  black  velveteen  breeches. 

The  terrible  storm  which  rages  without 
renders  still  more  agreeable  the  picture 
of  this  peaceful  interior.  A  rousing  fire 
burns  in  a  broad  chimney-place  faced  with 
white  marble,  and  throws  its  joyous  light 
on  the  carefully  polished  floor;  nothing 
•  can  be  more  cheerful  than  the  old-fashioned 
chintz  panels  over  the  door  painted  with 
pastoral  scenes  in  the  style  of  Watteau. 
A  clock  of  Sevres  china,  and  rosewood 
furniture  inlaid  with  green — quaint  and 
portly  furniture,  twisted  into  all  sorts  of 
grotesque  shapes — complete  the  decora- 
tions of  this  apartment. 

Out-doors,  the  gale  continued  to  howl 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  853 

furiously,  and  sometimes  a  gust  of  wind 
would  rush  down  the  chimney,  or  shake 
the  fastenings  of  the  windows.  The  man 
who  was  occupied  in  sorting  the  samples 
of  grain  was  M.  Dupont,  bailiff  of  Cardo- 
ville  manor. 

"  Holy  Virgin  !  "  said  his  wife ;  "  what 
dreadful  weather,  my  dear !  This  M.  Ro- 
din, who  is  to  come  here  this  morning,  as 
the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier's  steward 
announced  to  us,  picked  out  a  very  bad 
day  for  it." 

"  Why,  in  truth,  I  have  rarely  heard 
such  a  hurricane.  If  M.  Rodin  has  never 
seen  the  sea  in  its  fury,  he  may  feast  his 
eyes  to-day  with  the  sight." 

"What  can  it  be  that  brings  this  M. 
Rodin,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Faith  !  I  know  nothing  about  it.  The 
steward  tells  me  in  his  letter  to  show  M. 
Rodin  the  greatest  attention,  and  to  obey 
him  as  if  he  were  my  master.  It  will  be 
for  him  to  explain  himself,  and  for  me  to 
execute  his  orders,  since  he  comes  on  the 
part  of  the  princess." 

"  By  rights  he  should  come  from  Made- 
moiselle Adrienne,  as  the  land  belongs  to 
her  since  the  death  of  the  duke  her  fa- 
ther." 

"Yes;  but  the  princess  being  aunt  to 
the  young  lady,  her  steward  manages 


854  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Mademoiselle  Adrienne's  affairs  —  so 
whether  one  or  the  other,  it  amounts  to 
the  same  thing-." 

"  Maybe  M.  Rodin  means  to  buy  the 
estate.  Though,  to  be  sure,  that  stout 
lady  who  came  from  Paris  last  week  on 
purpose  to  see  the  chateau  appeared  to 
have  a  great  wish  for  it." 

At  these  words  the  bailiff  began  to 
laugh  with  a  sly  look. 

"  What  is  there  to  laug-h  at,  Dupont  ?  " 
asked  his  wife,  a  very  good  creature,  but 
not  famous  for  intelligence  or  penetration. 

"  I  laugh,"  answered  Dupont,  "  to  think 
of  the  face  and  figure  of  that  enormous 
woman  :  with  such  a  look,  who  the  devil 
would  call  themselves  Madame  de  la 
Sainte  Colombe — Mrs.  Holy  Dove?  A 
pretty  saint,  and  a  pretty  dove,  truly ! 
She  is  round  as  a  hogshead,  with  the  voice 
of  a  town-crier,  has  gray  mustaches,  like 
an  old  grenadier,  and,  without  her  know- 
ing1 it,  I  heard  her  say  to  her  servant : 
'  Stir  your  stumps,  my  hearty  ! ' — and  yet 
she  calls  herself  Sainte  Colombe." 

"  How  hard  on  her  you  are,  Dupont ;  a 
body  don't  choose  one's  name.  And,  if 
she  has  a  beard,  it  is  not  the  lady's  fault." 

"  No — but  it  is  her  fault  to  call  herself 
Sainte  Colombe.  Do  you  imagine  it  her 
true  name  ?  Ah,  my  poor  Catherine,  you 
are  yet  very  green  in  some  things." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  355 

"  While  you,  my  poor  Dupont,  are  well 
read  in  slander !  This  lady  seems  very 
respectable.  The  first  thing1  she  asked 
for  on  arriving-  was  the  chapel  of  the 
castle,  of  which  she  had  heard  speak. 
She  even  said  that  she  would  make  some 
embellishments  in  it,  and,  when  I  told  her 
we  had  no  church  in  this  little  place,  she 
appeared  quite  vexed  not  to  have  a  curate 
in  the  village." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure  !  that's  the  first  thought 
of  your  upstarts — to  play  the  great  lady 
of  the  parish,  like  your  titled  people." 

"Madame  de  la  Sainte  Colombe  need 
not  play  the  great  lady,  because  she  is 
one.", 

"  She  !  a  great  lady  ?     Oh,  lor' ! " 

"Yes— only  see  how  she  was  dressed, 
in  scarlet  gown,  and  violet  gloves  like  a 
bishop's ;  and,  when  she  took  off  her  bon- 
net, she  had  a  diamond  band  round  her 
head-dress  of  false,  light  hair,  and  dia- 
mond ear-drops  as  large  as  my  thumb, 
and  diamond  rings  on  every  finger  ! 
None  of  your  tuppenny  beauties  would 
wear  so  many  diamonds  in  the  middle  of 
the  day." 

"  You  are  a  pretty  judge  !  " 

"That  is  not  all." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  there's  more  ?  " 

"  She  talked  of  nothing  but  dukes,  and 


356  THE  WANDERING  JEV7. 

marquises,  and  counts,  and  very  rich  gen- 
tlemen, who  visit  at  her  house,  and  are 
her  most  intimate  friends ;  and  then, 
when  she  saw  the  summer  house  in  the 
park,  half-burnt  by  the  Prussians,  which 
our  late  master  never  rebuilt,  she  asked  : 
( What  are  those  ruins  there  ?  '  and  I  an- 
swered :  *  Madame,  it  was  in  the  time  of 
the  Allies  that  the  pavilion  was  burned.' 
— 'Oh,  my  dear,'  cried  she;  'our  allies, 
good,  dear  allies  !  they  and  the  Resto- 
ration began  my  fortune  ! '  So  you  see, 
Dupont,  I  said  to  myself  directly  :  '  She 
was  no  doubt  one  of  the  noble  women  who 
fled  abroad — ' ' 

"  Madame  de  Sainte  Colombe  !  "  cried 
the  bailiff,  laughing  heartily.  "  Oh,  my 
poor,  poor  wife  !  " 

"Oh,  it  is  all  very  well;  but  because 
you  have  been  three  years  at  Paris,  don't 
think  yourself  a  conjuror." 

"  Catherine,  let's  drop  it :  you  will 
make  me  say  some  folly,  and  there  are 
certain  things  which  dear,  good  creatures 
like  you  need  never  know." 

"  I  cannot  tell  what  you  are  driving  at ; 
only  try  to  be  less  slanderous — for  after 
all,  should  Madame  de  la  Sainte  Colombe 
buy  the  estate,  will  you  be  sorry  to  re- 
main as  her  bailiff,  eh  ?  " 

"  Not  I — for  we  are  getting  old,  my 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  857 

good  Catherine ;  we  have  lived  here 
twenty  years,  and  we  have  been  too 
honest  to  provide  for  our  old  days  by 
pilfering — and  truly,  at  our  age,  it  would 
be  hard  to  seek  another  place,  which  per- 
haps we  should  not  find.  What  I  regret 
is,  thajb  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  should  not 
keep  the  land ;  it  seems  that  she  wished 
to  sell  it,  against  the  will  of  the  princess." 

"  Good  gracious,  Dupont !  is  it  not  very 
extraordinary  that  Mademoiselle  Adri- 
enne should  have  the  disposal  of  her  large 
fortune  so  early  in  life  ?  " 

<(  Faith  !  simple  enough.  Our  3roung 
lady,  having  no  father  or  mother,  is  mis- 
tress of  her  property,  besides  having  a 
famous  little  will  of  her  own.  Dost  re- 
member, ten  years  ago,  when  the  count 
brought  her  down  here  one  summer  ? — 
what  an  imp  of  mischief  !  and  then  what 
eyes!  eh? — how  they  sparkled,  even  then!" 

"  It  is  true  that  Mademoiselle  Adrienne 
had  in  her  look — an  expression — a  very 
uncommon  expression  for  her  age." 

"If  she  has  kept  what  her  witching, 
luring  face  promised,  she  must  be  very 
pretty  by  this  time,  notwithstanding  the 
peculiar  color  of  her  hair — for,  between 
ourselves,  if  she  had  been  a  tradesman's 
daughter,  instead  of  a  young  lady  of  high 
birth,  they  would  have  called  it  red." 


358  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"There  again  !  more  slander  !  " 

"What?  against  Mademoiselle  Adri- 
enne  ?  Heaven  forbid  !  I  alwaj's  thought 
that  she  would  be  as  good  as  pretty,  and 
it  is  not  speaking  ill  of  her  to  say  she  has 
red  hair.  On  the  contrary,  it  always  ap- 
pears to  me  so  fine,  so  bright,  so  sunny, 
and  to  suit  so  well  her  snowy  complexion 
and  black  eyes,  that  in  truth  I  would  not 
have  had  it  other  than  it  was  ;  and  I  am 
sure,  that  now  this  very  color  of  her  hair, 
which  would  be  a  blemish  in  any  one  else, 
must  only  add  to  the  charm  of  Mademoi- 
selle Adrienne's  face.  She  must  have 
such  a  sweet  vixen  look  !  " 

"  Oh  !  to  be  candid,  she  really  was  a 
vixen — always  running  about  the  park, 
aggravating  her  governess,  climbing  the 
trees — in  fact,  playing  all  manner  of 
naughty  tricks." 

"  I  grant  you,  Mademoiselle  Adrienne 
was  a  chip  of  the  old  block ;  but  then 
what  wit,  what  engaging  ways,  and 
above  all,  what  a  good  heart !  " 

"  Yes — that  she  certainly  had.  Once  I 
remember  she  gave  her  shawl  and  her 
new  merino  frock  to  a  poor  little  beggar 
girl,  and  came  back  to  the  house  in  her 
petticoat  and  bare  arms." 

"Oh,  an  excellent  heart — but  head- 
strong— terribly^ieadstrong  ! " 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  359 

"Yes — that  she  was;  and  'tis  likely  to 
finish  badly,  for  it  seems  that  she  does 
thing-s  at  Paris — oh  !  such  things — " 

"What  thing-s?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  !  I  can  hardly  ven- 
ture—" 

"  Well,  but  what  are  they  ?  " 

"Why,"  said  the  worthy  dame,  with  a 
sort  of  embarrassment  and  confusion, 
which  showed  how  much  she  was  shocked 
by  such  enormities,  "  they  say  that  Mad- 
emoiselle Adrienne  never  sets  foot  in  a 
church,  but  lives  in  a  kind  of  heathen 
temple  in  her  aunt's  garden,  where  she 
has  masked  women  to  dress  her  up  like  a 
goddess,  and  scratches  them  very  often, 
because  she  gets  tipsy — without  mention- 
ing that  every  night  she  plays  on  a  hunt- 
ing-horn of  massive  gold — all  which  causes 
the  utmost  grief  and  despair  to  her  poor 
aunt  the  princess." 

Here  the  bailiff  burst  into  a  fit  of  laugh- 
ter, which  interrupted  his  wife.  "  Now 
tell  me,"  said  he,  when  this  first  access 
of  hilarity  was  over,  "  where  did  you  get 
these  fine  stories  about  Mademoiselle 
Adrienne  ?  " 

"  From  Rene's  wife,  who  went  to  Paris 
to  look  for  a  child  to  nurse ;  she  called  at 
Saint-Dizier  House  to  see  Madame  Gri- 
vois,  her  godmother. — Now,  Madame 


WANDERING  JEW. 

Grivois  is  first  bedchamber-woman  to  the 
princess — and  she  it  was  who  told  her  all 
this — and  surely  she  ought  to  know,  being 
in  the  house." 

"  Yes,  a  fine  piece  of  goods  that  Grivois! 
Once  she  was  a  regular  bad  'un,  but  now 
she  professes  to  be  as  over-nice  as  her 
mistress  ;  like  master  like  man-,  they  say. 
The  princess  herself,  who  is  now  so  stiff 
and  starched,  knew  how  to  carry  on  a 
lively  game  in  her  time.  Fifteen  years 
ago,  she  was  no  such  prude  :  do  you 
remember  that  handsome  colonel  of  hus- 
sars, who  was  in  garrison  at  Abbeville — 
an  exiled  noble  who  had  served  in  Russia, 
to  whom  the  Bourbons  gave  a  regiment 
on  the  Restoration  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes — I  remember  him  ;  but  you 
are  really  too  backbiting." 

"Not  a  bit — I  only  speak  the  truth. 
The  colonel  spent  -his  whole  time  here, 
and  every  one  said  he  was  very  warm 
with  this  same  princess,  who  is  now  such 
a  saint.  Oh  !  those  were  the  jolly  times. 
Every  evening,  some  new  entertainment 
at  the  chateau.  What  a  fellow  that  col- 
onel was  to  set  things  going ;  how  well 
he  could  act  a  play  ! — I  remember — " 

The  bailiff  was  unable  to  proceed.  A 
stout  maid  servant,  wearing  the  costume 
and  cap  of  Picardy,  entered  in  haste,  and 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  361 

thus  addressed  her  mistress  :  "  Madame, 
there  is  a  person  here  that  wants  to  speak 
to  master  ;  he  has  come  in  the  post-mas- 
ter's calash  from  Saint- Valery,  and  he 
says  that  he  is  M.  Rodin." 

"M.  Rodin?"  said  the  bailiff  rising. 
"  Show  him  in  directly  !  " 

A  moment  after,  M.  Rodin  made  his 
appearance.  According-  to  his  custom, 
he  was  dressed  even  more  than  plain ]y. 
With  an  air  of  great  humility,  he  saluted 
the  bailiff  and  his  wife,  and  at  a  sign  from 
her  hushand,  the  latter  withdrew. 

The  cadaverous  countenance  of  M.  Ro- 
din, his  almost  invisible  lips,  his  little 
reptile  eyes,  half  concealed  by  their  flabby 
lids,  and  the  sordid  style  of  his  dress,  ren- 
dered his  general  aspect  far  from  prepos- 
sessing- ;  yet  this  man  knew  how,  when  it 
was  necessar3r,  to  affect,  with  diabolical 
art,  so  much  sincerity  and  good  nature — 
his  words  were  so  affectionate  and  subtly 
penetrating- — that  the  disagreeable  feeling 
of  repugnance,  which  the  first  sight  of 
him  generally  inspired,  wore  off  little  by 
little,  and  he  almost  always  finished  by 
involving  his  dupe  or  victim  in  the  tortu- 
ous windings  of  an  eloquence  as  pliant  as 
it  was  honeyed  and  perfidious ;  for  ugliness 

VOL.  1—16 


863  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

and  evil  have  their  fascination,  as  well  as 
what  is  good  and  fair. 

The  honest  bailiff  looked  at  this  man 
with  surprise,  when  he  thought  of  the 
pressing  recommendation  of  the  steward 
of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier ;  he  had 
expected  to  see  quite  another  sort  of  per- 
sonage, and,  hardly  able  to  dissemble  his 
astonishment,  he  said  to  him :  "  Is  it  to  M. 
Rodin  that  I  have  the  honor  to  speak  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ; — and  here  is  another  letter 
from  the  steward  of  the  Princess  de  Saint- 
Dizier." 

"  Pray,  sir,  draw  near  the  fire,  while  I 
just  see  what  is  in  this  letter.  The  weather 
is  so  bad,"  continued  the  bailiff,  obligingly, 
"  may  I  not  offer  you  some  refreshment  ?  " 

"A  thousand  thanks,  my  dear  sir;  I 
am  off  again  in  an  hour." 

While  M.  Dupont  read,  M.  Rodin  threw 
inquisitive  glances  round  the  chamber; 
like  a  man  of  skill  and  experience,  he  had 
frequently  drawn  just  and  useful  induc- 
tions from  those  little  appearances,  which, 
revealing  a  taste  or  habit,  give  at  the 
same  time  some  notion  of  a  character ;  on 
this  occasion,  however,  his  curiosity  was 
at  fault. 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  the  bailiff,  when 
he  had  finished  reading ;  "  the  steward 
renews  his  recommendation,  and  tells  me 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  863 

to  attend  implicitly  to  your  commands." 

"Well,  sir,  they  will  amount  to  very 
little,  and  I  shall  not  trouble  you  long-." 

"It  will  be  no  trouble,  but  an  honor." 

"Nay,  I  know  how  much  your  time 
must  be  occupied,  for,  as  soon  ns  one 
enters  this  chateau,  one  is  struck  with  the 
good  order  and  perfect  keeping-  of  every- 
thing- in  it — which  proves,  my  dear  sir, 
what  excellent  care  you  take  of  it." 

"Oh,  sir,  you  flatter  me." 

"  Flatter  you  ? — a  poor  old  man  like 
myself  has  something-  else  to  think  of. 
But  to  come  to  business  :  there  is  a  room 
here  which  is  called  the  Green  Chamber  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  room  which  the  late 
Count-Duke  de  Cardoville  used  for  a 
study." 

"You  will  have  the  goodness  to  take 
me  there." 

"  Unfortunately  it  is  not  in  my  power 
to  do  so.  After  the  death  of  the  Count- 
Duke,  and  when  the  seals  were  removed, 
a  number  of  papers  were  shut  up  in  a  cab- 
inet in  that  room,  and  the  lawyers  took 
the  keys  with  them  to  Paris." 

"Here  are  those  keys,"  said  M.  Rodin, 
showing-  to  the  bailiff  a  larg-e  and  a  small 
key  tied  tog-ether. 

"  Oh,  sir  !  that  is  different.  You  come 
to  look  for  papers  ?  " 


364  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Yes — for  certain  papers — and  also  for 
a  small  mahogany  casket,  with  silver  claps 
— do  you  happen  to  know  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  often  seen  it  on  the 
count's  writing1  table.  It  must  be  in  the 
large,  lacquered  cabinet,  of  which  you 
have  the  key." 

"  You  will  conduct  me  to  this  chamber, 
as  authorized  by  the  Princess  de  Saint- 
Dizier  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  princess  continues  in 
good  health  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  so.  She  lives  altogether 
above  worldly  things." 

"  And  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  ?  " 

"Alas,  my  dear  sir!  "  said  M.  Rodin, 
with  a  sigh  of  deep  contrition  and  grief. 

"  Good  heaven,  sir  !  has  any  calamity 
happened  to  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  ?  " 

"  In  what  sense  do  you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Is  she  ill  ?  " 

"  No,  no — she  is,  unfortunately,  as  well 
as  she  is  beautiful." 

"  Unfortunately  !  "  cried  the  bailiff,  in 
surprise. 

"Alas,  yes!  for  when  beauty,  youth, 
and  health  are  joined  to  an  evil  spirit  of 
revolt  and  perversity  —  to  a  character 
which  certainly  has  not  its  equal  upon 
earth— it  would  be  far  better  to  be  de- 
prived of  those  dangerous  advantages, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  365 

which  only  become  so  many  causes  of  per- 
dition. But  I  conjure  you,  my  dear  sir, 
let  us  talk  of  something-  else  :  this  subject 
is  too  painful,"  said  M.  Rodin,  with  a  voice 
of  deep  emotion,  lifting-  the  tip  of  his  little 
finger  to  the  corner  of  his  rig-ht  eye,  as  if 
to  stop  a  rising1  tear. 

The  bailiff  did  not  see  the  tear,  but  he 
saw  the  gesture,  and  he  was  struck  with 
the  change  in  M.  Rodin's  voice.  He  an- 
swered him  therefore,  with  much  sym- 
pathy:  "Pardon  my  indiscretion,  sir ;  I 
really  did  not  know — " 

"  It  is  I  who  should  ask  pardon  for  this 
involuntary  display  of  feeling- — tears  are 
so  rare  with  old  men — but  if  you  had  seen, 
as  I  have,  the  despair  of  that  excellent 
princess,  whose  only  fault  has  been  too 
much  kindness,  too  much  weakness,  with 
reg-ard  to  her  niece — by  which  she  has 
encouraged  her — but,  once  more,  let  us 
talk  of  something-  else,  my  dear  sir  !  " 

After  a  moment's  pause,  during-  which 
M.  Rodin  seemed  to  recover  from  his  emo- 
tion, he  said  to  Dupont :  "One  part  of  my 
mission,  my  dear  sir — that  which  relates 
to  the  Green  Chamber — I  have  now  told 
you;  but  there  is  yet  another.  Before 
coming-  to  it,  however,  I  must  remind  you 
of  a  circumstance  you  have  perhaps  for- 
g-otten — namely,  that  some  fifteen  or  six- 


360  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

teen  years  ago  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny, 
then  colonel  of  the  hussars  in  garrison  at 
Abbeville,  spent  some  time  in  this  house." 

"  Oh,  sir  !  what  a  dashing1  officer  was 
there  !  It  was  only  just  now  that  I  was 
talking  about  him  to  my  wife.  He  was  the 
life  of  the  house  ! — how  well  he  could  per- 
form plays — particular^  the  character  of 
a  scapegrace.  In  the  *  Two  Edmonds,'  for 
instance,  he  would  make  you  die  with 
laughing,  in  that  part  of  a  drunken  soldier 
— and  then,  with  what  a  charming  voice 
he  sung  '  Joconde,'  sir — better  than  they 
could  sing  it  at  Paris  !  " 

Rodin,  having  listened  complacently  to 
the  bailiff,  said  to  him  :  "  You  doubtless 
know  that,  after  a  fierce  duel  he  had  with 
a  furious  Bonapartist,  one  General  Simon, 
the  Marquis  d'Aigrign}'  (whose  private 
secretary  I  have  now  the  honor  to  be)  left 
the  world  for  the  church." 

"  No,  sir  !  is  it  possible  ?  That  fine 
.officer!" 

"  That  fine  officer — brave,  noble,  rich, 
esteemed,  and  flattered — abandoned  all 
those  advantages  for  the  sorry  black 
gown ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  name, 
position,  high  connections,  his  reputation 
as  a  great  preacher,  he  is  still  what  he 
was  fourteen  years  ago — a  plain  abbe — 
while  so  many,  who  have  neither  big 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  867 

merit  nor  his  virtues,  are  archbishops  and 
cardinals." 

M.  Rodin  expressed  himself  with  so 
much  goodness,  with  such  an  air  of  con- 
viction, and  the  facts  he  cited  appeared 
to  be  so  incontestable,  that  M.  Dupont 
could  not  help  exclaiming1:  "Well,  sir, 
that  is  splendid  conduct !  " 

"  Splendid  ?  Oh,  no  !  "  said  M.  Rodin 
with  an  inimitable  expression  of  simplic- 
ity;  "it  is  quite  a  matter  of  course — 
when  one  has  a  heart  like  M.  d'Aigrigny's. 
But  among  all  his  good  qualities,  he  has 
particularly  that  of  never  forgetting  wor- 
thy people — people  of  integrity,  honor, 
conscience — and  therefore,  my  dear  M. 
Dupont,  he  has  not  forgotten  you. " 

"  What,  the  most  noble  marquis  deigns 
to  remember — " 

"  Three  days  ago  I  received  a  letter 
from  him  in  which  he  mentions  your 
name," 

"Is  he  then  at  Paris?" 

"He  will  be  there  soon,  if  not  there 
now.  He  went  to  Italy  about  three 
months  ago,  and,  during  his  absence,  he 
received  a  very  sad  piece  of  news — the 
death  of  his  mother,  who  was  passing  the 
autumn  on  one  of  the  estates  of  the 
Princess  de  Saint-Dizier." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !     I  was  not  aware  of  it." 


368  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  cruel  grief  to  him  ;  but 
•we  must  all  resign  ourselves  to  the  will 
of  Providence ! " 

"And  with  regard  to  what  subject  did 
the  marquis  do  me  the  honor  to  mention 
my  name?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  First  of  nil, 
you  must  know  that  this  house  is  sold. 
The  bill  of  sale  was  signed  the  day  before 
my  departure  from  Paris." 

"Oh,  sir!  that  renews  all  my  uneasi- 
ness." 

"  Pray,  why  ?  " 

"I  am  afraid  that  the  new  proprietors 
may  not  choose  to  keep  me  as  their  bailiff." 

"Now  see  vvhat  a  lucky  chance.  It  is 
just  on  that  subject  that  I  am  going  to 
speak  to  you." 

"  Is  it  possible  !  " 

"  Certainly.  Knowing  the  interest 
which  the  marquis  feels  for  you,  I  am 
particularly  desirous  that  you  should 
keep  this  place,  and  I  will  do  all  in  my 
power  to  serve  you,  if—" 

"Ah,  sir!"  cried  Dupont,  interrupting 
Rodin  ;  "  what  gratitude  do  I  not  owe 
you  !  It  is  heaven  that  sends  you  to  me !  " 

"  Now,  my  dear  sir,  you  flatter  me  in 
your  turn  ;  but  I  ought  to  tell  you  that 
I  am  obliged  to  annex  a  small  condition 
to  my  support." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  36V 

"Oh,  by  all  means  !  Only  name  it,  sir — 
name  it !  " 

"  The  person  who  is  about  to  inhabit 
this  mansion  is  an  old  lady  in  every  way 
worthy  of  veneration ;  Madame  de  la 
Sainte-Colombe  is  the  name  of  this  re- 
spectable— 

"  What,  sir  ?  "  said  the  bailiff,  inter- 
rupting  Rodin;  "Madame  de  la  Sainte- 
Colombe  the  lady  who  has  bought  us 
out  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  she  came  last  week  to  see 
the  estate.  My  wife  persists  that  she  is 
a  great  lady;  but — between  ourselves—- 
judging by  certain  words  that  I  heard 
her  speak — " 

"You  are  full  of  penetration,  my  dear 
M.  Dupont.  Madame  de  la  Saint-Colombe 
is  far  from  being  a  great  lady.  I  believe 
she  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  mil- 
liner, under  one  of  the  wooden  porticoes 
of  the  Palais  Royal.  You  see  that  I  deal 
openly  with  you." 

"  And  she  boasted  of  all  the  noblemen, 
French  and  foreign,  who  used  to  visit 
her !  " 

"No  doubt,  they  came  to  buy  bonnets 
for  their  wives  !  However,  the  fact  is, 
that,  having  gained  a  large  fortune — and, 
after  being  in  youth  and  middle  age,  in- 


370  THE  WANDBRIHG  JEW. 

different  to  the  salvation  of  her  soul — 
Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  is  now  in 
a  likely  way  to  experience  grace — which 
renders  her,  as  I  told  you,  worthy  of  ven- 
eration, because  nothing  is  so  respectable 
as  a  sincere  repentance — always  providing 
it  be  lasting.  Now  to  make  the  good 
work  sure  and  effectual,  we  shall  need 
your  assistance,  my  dear  M.  Dupont." 

"Mine,  sir  !  what  can  I  do  in  it  ?  " 

"A  great  deal;  and  I  will  explain  to 
you  how.  There  is  no  church  in  this  vil- 
lage, which  stands  at  an  equal  distance 
from  each  of  two  parishes.  Madame  de 
la  Sainte-Colombe,  wishing  to  make  choice 
of  one  of  the  two  clergymen,  will  naturally 
apply  to  you  and  Madame  Dupont,  who 
have  long  lived  in  these  parts,  for  infor- 
mation respecting  them." 

"  Oh  !  in  that  case,  the  choice  will  soon 
be  made.  The  incumbent  of  Danicourt  is 
one  of  the  best  of  men." 

"Now  that  is  precisely  what  you  must 
not  say  to  Madame  de  la  Saint-Colombe." 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"You  must,  on  the  contrary,  much 
praise,  without  ceasing,  the  curate  of  Roi- 
ville,  the  other  parish,  so  as  to  decide  this 
good  lady  to  trust  herself  to  his  care." 

"  And  why,  sir,  to  him  rather  than  to 
the  other  ?  " 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  871 

"Why  ? — because  if  you  and  Madame 
Dupont  succeed  in  persuading-  Madame 
de  la  Sainte-Colombe  to  make  the  choice 
I  wish,  you.  will  be  certain  to  keep  your 
place  as  bailiff.  I  give  you  my  word  of 
it,  and  what  I  promise  I  perform." 

"  I  do  not  doubt,  sir,  that  you  have 
this  power,"  said  Dupont,  convinced  by 
Rodin's  manner  and  the  authority  of  his 
words ;  "  but  I  should  like  to  know— 

"  One  word  more,"  said  Rodin,  inter- 
rupting him ;  "  I  will  deal  openly  with, 
you,  and  tell  you  why  I  insist  on  the  pref- 
erence which  I  beg-  you  to  support.  I 
should  be  grieved  if  you  saw  in  all  this 
the  shadow  of  an  intrigue.  It  is  on\y 
for  the  purpose  of  doing1  a  good  action. 
The  curate  of  Roiville,  for  whom  I  ask 
your  influence,  is  a  man  for  whom  M. 
d'Aigrigny  feels  a  deep  interest.  Though 
very  poor,  he  has  to  support  an  aged 
mother.  Now,  if  he  had  the  spiritual 
care  of  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  he 
would  do  more  good  than  any  one  else, 
because  he  is  full  of  zeal  and  patience ; 
and  then  it  is  clear  he  would  reap  some 
little  advantages,  by  which  his  old  mother 
might  profit — there  you  see  is  the  secret 
of  this  mighty  scheme.  When  I  knew 
that  this  lady  was  disposed  to  buy  an 
estate  in  the  neighborhood  of  our  friend's 


372  THE  WANDERING  JEW 

parish,  I  wrote  about  it  to  the  marquis ; 
and  he,  remembering  you,  desired  me  to 
ask  you  to  render  him  this  small  service, 
which,  as  you  see,  will  not  remain  with- 
out a  recompense.  For  I  tell  you  once 
more,  and  I  will  prove  it,  that  I  have  the 
power  to  keep  you  in  your  place  as  bailiff." 

"Well,  sir,"  replied  Dupont,  after  a 
moment's  reflection,  "you  are  so  frank 
and  obliging  that  I  will  imitate  your  sin- 
cerity. In  the  same  degree  that  the 
curate  of  Danicourt  is  respected  and 
loved  in  this  country,  the  curate  of 
Roiville,  whom  you  wish  me  to  prefer 
to  him,  is  dreaded  for  his  intolerance— 
and,  moreover — " 

"Well,  and  what  more?  " 

"  Why,  then,  they  say — " 

"  Come,  what  do  they  say  ?  " 

"  They  say — he  is  a  Jesuit." 

Upon  these  words  M.  Rodin  burst  into 
so  hearty  a  laugh  that  the  bailiff  was 
quite  struck  dumb  with  amazement — for 
the  countenance  of  M.  Rodin  took  a  sin- 
gular expression  when  he  laughed.  "  A 
Jesuit ! "  he  repeated,  with  redoubled 
hilarity ;  "  a  Jesuit !  Now  really,  my 
dear  M.  Dupont,  for  a  man  of  sense,  ex- 
perience and  intelligence,  how  can  you 
believe  such  idle  stories  ?  A  Jesuit — are 
there  such  people  as  Jesuits  ? — in  our 


THE  WANDERING  JKW.  378 

time,  above  all,  can  you  believe  such 
romance  of  the  Jacobins,  hobgoblins  of 
the  old  freedom  lovers  ?  Come,  come  ;  I 
wager  you  have  read  about  them  in  the 
Constitutionnel  I " 

"  And  yet,  sir,  they  say — " 

"  Good  heavens !  what  will  they  not 
say  ?  But  wise  men,  prudent  men  like 
you  do  not  meddle  with  what  is  said — 
they  manage  their  own  little  matters, 
without  doing1  injury  to  any  one,  and  they 
never  sacrifice,  for  the  sake  of  nonsense,  a 
good  place,  which  secures  them  a  comfort- 
able provision  for  the  rest  of  their  days. 
I  tell  you  frankly,  however  much  I  may 
regret  it,  that  should  you  not  succeed  in 
getting  the  preference  for  my  man,  you 
will  not  remain  bailiff  here." 

"But,  sir,"  said  poor  Dupont,  "it  will 
not  be  my  fault  if  this  lady,  hearing  a 
great  deal  in  praise  of  the  other  curate, 
should  prefer  him  to  your  friend." 

"  Ah  !  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  per- 
sons who  have  long  lived  in  the  neighbor- 
hood— persons  worthy  of  confidence,  whom 
she  will  see  every  day — tell  Madame  de  la 
Sainte-Colombe  a  great  deal  of  good  of 
my  friend,  and  a  great  deal  of  harm  of 
the  other  curate,  she  will  prefer  the  for- 
mer, and  you  will  continue  bailiff." 


374  THE    WANDKR1NQ  JEW. 

"  But,  sir — that  would  be  calumny  !  " 
cried  Dupont. 

"Pshaw,  my  dear  M.  Dupont!"  said 
Rodin,  with  an  air  of  sorrowful  and  affec- 
tionate reproach,  "  how  can  you  think  me 
capable  of  giving1  you  evil  counsel  ?  I  was 
only  making-  a  supposition.  You  wish  to 
remain  bailiff  on  this  estate.  I  offer  you 
the  certainty  of  doing  so — it  is  for  you  to 
consider  and  decide." 

"  But,  sir—" 

"  One  word  more — or  rather  one  more 
condition — as  important  as  the  other.  Un- 
fortunately, we  have  seen  clergymen  take 
advantage  of  the  age  and  weakness  of 
their  penitents,  unfairly  to  benefit  either 
themselves  or  others :  I  believe  our  pro- 
tege incapable  of  any  such  baseness — 
but,  in  order  to  discharge  my  responsibil- 
ity— nnd  yours,  also,  as  you  will  have  con- 
tributed to  his  appointment — I  must  re- 
quest that  you  will  write  to  me  twice  a 
week,  giving  the  most  exact  detail  of  all 
that  you  have  remarked  in  the  character, 
habits,  connections,  pursuits,  of  Madame 
de  la  Sainte-Colombe — for  the  influence 
of  a  confessor,  you  see,  reveals  itself  in 
the  whole  conduct  of  life,  and  I  should 
wish  to  be  fully  edified  Toy  the  proceedings 
of  my  friend,  without  his  being  aware  of 
it — or,  if  anything  blamable  were  to  strike 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  375 

you,  I  should  be  Immediately  informed  of 
it  by  this  weekty  correspondence." 

"But,  sir — that  would  be  to  act  as  a 
spy  ?  "  exclaimed  the  unfortunate  bailiff. 

"  Now,  my  dear  M.  Dupont  !  how  can 
you  thus  brand  the  sweetest,  most  whole- 
some of  human  desires  —  mutual  confi- 
dence ?  I  ask  of  you  nothing-  else — I  ask 
of  you  to  write  to  me  confidentially  the 
details  of  all  that  goes  on  here.  On  these 
two  conditions,  inseparable  one  from  the 
other,  you  remain  bailiff;  otherwise,  I 
shall  be  forced,  with  grief  and  regret,  to 
recommend  some  one  else  to  Madame  de  la 
Sainte-Oolombe. " 

"I  beg  you,  sir,"  said  Dupont,  with 
emotion,  "  be  generous  without  any  con- 
ditions !  I  and  my  wife  have  only  this 
place  to  give  us  bread,  and  we  are  too  old 
to  find  another.  Do  not  expose  our  prob- 
ity of  forty  years'  standing  to  be  tempted 
by  the  fear  of  want,  which  is  so  bad  a 
counselor  !  " 

"  My  dear  M.  Dupont,  you  are  really  a 
great  child :  you  must  reflect  upon  this, 
and  give  me  your  answer  in  the  course  of 
a  week." 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  implore  you — "  The  con- 
versation was  here  interrupted  by  a  loud 
report,  which  was  almost  instantaneous- 
ly repeated  by  the  echoes  of  the  cliffs. 


376  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  said  M.  Rodin.  Hardly 
had  he  spoken  when  the  same  noise  was 
again  heard,  more  distinctly  than  before. 

"It  is  the  sound  of  cannon,"  cried  Du- 
pont,  rising1 ;  "  no  doubt  a  ship  in  distress, 
or  signaling  for  a  pilot." 

"My  dear,"  said  the  bailiff's  wife,  en- 
tering abruptly,  "  from  the  terrace  we  can 
see  a  steamer  and  a  large  ship  nearly 
dismasted — they  are  drifting  right  upon 
the  shore — the  ship  is  firing  minute  guns 
—it  will  be  lost." 

"  Oh,  it  is  terrible  !  "  cried  the  bailiff, 
taking  his  hat  and  preparing  to  go  out, 
"  to  look  on  at  a  shipwreck,  and  be  able 
to  do  nothing." 

"Can  no  help  be  given  to  these  ves- 
sels ?  "  asked  M.  Rodin. 

"  If  they  are  driven  upon  the  reefs,  no 
human  power  can  save  them  ;  since  the 
last  equinox  two  ships  have  been  lost  on 
this  coast." 

"Lost  with  all  on  board? — Oh,  very 
frightful,"  said  M.  Rodin. 

"  In  such  a  storm  there  is  but  little 
chance  for  the  crew  ;  no  matter,"  said 
the  bailiff,  addressing  his  wife,  "  I'll  run 
down  to  the  rocks  with  the  people  of  the 
farm,  and  try  to  save  some  of  them,  poor 
creatures  ! — Light  large  fin's  in  several 
rooms — get  ready  linen,  clothes,  cordials 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  377 

— I  scarcely  dare  hope  to  save  any,  but 
we  must  do  our  best.  Will  you  come  with 
me,  M.  Rodin  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  a  duty,  if  I  could  he 
at  all  useful,  but  I  am  too  old  and  feeble 
to  be  of  any  service,"  said  M.  Rodin,  who 
was  by  no  means  anxious  to  encounter  the 
storm.  "  Your  good  lady  will  be  kind 
enough  to  show  me  the  Green  Chamber, 
and  when  I  have  found  the  articles  I  re- 
quire, I  will  set  out  immediately  for  Paris, 
for  I  am  in  great  haste." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  Catherine  will  show 
you.  Ring  the  big  bell,"  said  the  bailiff 
to  his  servant :  "  let  all  the  people  of  the 
farm  meet  me  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  with 
ropes  and  levers." 

"Yes,  my  dear/'  replied  Catherine; 
"but  do  not  expose  yourself." 

"  Kiss  me — it  will  bring  me  luck,"  said 
the  bailiff ;  and  he  started  at  a  full  run, 
crying,  "  Quick,  quick  ;  by  this  time,  not 
a  plank  may  remain  of  the  vessels." 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  Rodin,  always 
impassable,  "will  you  be  obliging  enough 
to  show  me  the  Green  Chamber  ?  " 

"Please  to  follow  me,  sir,"  answered 
Catherine,  drying  her  tears  —  for  she 
trembled  on  account  of  her  husband, 
whose  courage  she  well  knew. 


878  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE   TEMPEST. 

THE  sea  is  rag-ing-.  Mountainous  waves 
of  dark  green,  marbled  with  white  foam, 
stand  out,  in  high,  deep  undulations,  from 
the  broad  streak  of  red  light  which  ex- 
tends along  the  horizon.  Above  are  piled 
heavy  masses  of  black  and  sulphurous 
vapor,  while  a  few  lig-hter  clouds  of  a  red- 
dish gray,  driven  by  the  violence  of  the 
wind,  rush  across  the  murky  sky. 

The  pale  winter  sun,  before  he  quite 
disappears  in  the  great  clouds,  behind 
which  he  is  slowly  mounting,  casts  here 
and  there  some  oblique  rays  upon  the 
troubled  sea,  and  gilds  the  transparent 
crest  of  some  of  the  tallest  waves.  A 
band  of  show-white  foam  boils  and  rages 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  along  the  line 
of  the  reefs  that  bristle  on  this  dangerous 
coast. 

Half-way  up  a  rugged  promontory, 
which  juts  pretty  far  into  the  sea,  rises 
Cardoville  Castle ;  a  ray  of  the  sun  glit- 
ters upon  its  windows;  its  brick  walls  and 
pointed  roofs  of  slate  are  visible  in  the 
midst  of  this  sky  loaded  with  vapors. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  379 

A  large,  disabled  ship,  with  mere  shreds 
of  sail  still  fluttering-  from  the  stumps  of 
broken  masts,  drives  dead  upon  the  coast. 
Now  she  rolls  her  monstrous  hull  upon  the 
waves — now  plunges  into  their  trough.  A 
flash  is  seen,  followed  by  a  dull  sound, 
scarcely  perceptible  in  the  midst  of  the 
roar  of  the  tempest.  That  gun  is  the  last 
signal  of  distress  from  this  lost  vessel, 
which  is  fast  forging  on  the  breakers. 

At  the  same  moment,  a  steamer  with 
its  long  plume  of  black  smoke  is  working 
her  Avay  from  east  to  west,  making  every 
effort  to  keep  at  a  distance  from  the  shore, 
leaving  the  breakers  on  her  left.  The  dis- 
mantled ship,  drifting  toward  the  rocks, 
at  the  mercy  of  the  wind  and  tide,  must 
some  time  pass  right  ahead  of  the  steamer. 

Suddenly,  the  rush  of  a  heavy  sea  laid 
the  steamer  upon  her  side ;  the  enormous 
wave  broke  furiously  on  her  deck ;  in  a 
second,  the  chimney  was  carried  away, 
the  paddle-box  stove  in,  one  of  the  wheels 
rendered  useless.  A  second  white-cap, 
following  the  first,  again  struck  the  ves- 
sel amidships,  and  so  increased  the  dam- 
age that,no  longer  answering  to  the  helm, 
she  also  drifted  toward  the  shore,  in  the 
same  direction  as  the  ship.  But  the  lat- 
ter, though  further  from  the  breakers, 
presented  a  greater  surface  to  the  wind 


880  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  sea,  and  so  gained  upon  the  steamer 
in  swiftness  that  a.  collision  between  the 
two  vessels  became  imminent — a  new  dan- 
ger added  to  all  the  horrors  of  the  now 
certain  wreck. 

The  ship  was  an  English  vessel,  the 
Black  Eagle,  homeward  bound  from 
Alexandria,  with  passengers,  who,  arriv- 
ing from  India  and  Java,  via  the  Red 
Sea,  had  disembarked  at  the  Isthmus 
of  Suez,  from  on  board  the  steamship 
Ruyter.  The  Black  Eagle,  quitting  the 
Straits  of  Gibraltar,  had  gone  to  touch 
at  the  Azores.  She  headed  thence  for 
Portsmouth,  when  she  was  overtaken  in 
the  Channel  by  the  northwester.  The 
steamer  was  the  William  Tell,  coming 
from  Germany,  by  way  of  the  Elbe,  and 
bound,  in  the  last  place,  from  Hamburg 
to  Havre. 

These  two  vessels,  the  sport  of  enor- 
mous rollers,  driven  along  by  tide  and 
tempest,  were  now  rushing  upon  the 
breakers  with  frightful  speed.  The  deck 
of  each  offered  a  terrible  spectacle  ;  the 
loss  of  crew  and  passengers  appeared  al- 
most certain,  for  before  them  a  tremen- 
dous sea  broke  on  jagged  rocks,  at  the 
foot  of  a  perpendicular  cliff. 

The  captain  of  the  Black  Eagle,  stand- 
ing on  the  poop,  holding  by  the  rem- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  881 

nant  of  a  spar,  issued  his  last  orders  in 
this  fearful  extremity  with  courageous 
coolness.  The  smaller  boats  had  been 
carried  away  by  the  waves ;  it  was  in 
vain  to  think  of  launching-  the  long-boat ; 
the  only  chance  of  escape,  in  case  the 
ship  should  not  be  immediately  dashed  to 
pieces  on  touching1  the  rocks,  was  to  es- 
tablish a  communication  with  the  land  by 
means  of  a  life  line — almost  the  last  re- 
sort for  passing-  between  the  shore  and  a 
stranded  vessel. 

The  deck  was  covered  with  passengers, 
whose  cries  and  terror  augmented  the 
general  confusion.  Some,  struck  with  a 
kind  of  stupor,  and  clinging  convulsively 
to  the  shrouds,  awaited  their  doom  in 
a  state  of  stupid  insensibility.  Others 
wrung  their  hands  in  despair,  or  rolled 
upon  the  deck  uttering  horrible  impreca- 
tions. Here,  women  knelt  down  to  pray; 
there,  others  hid  their  faces  in  their  hands, 
that  they  might  not  see  the  awful  approach 
of  death.  A  young  mother,  pale  as  a 
specter,  holding  her  child  clasped  tightly 
to  her  bosom,  went  supplicating  from 
sailor  to  sailor,  and  offering  a  purse  full 
of  gold  and  jewels  to  any  one  that  would 
take  charge  of  her  son. 

These  cries,  and  tears,  and  terror  con- 
trasted with  the  stern  and  silent  resigna- 


383  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

tion  of  the  sailors.  Knowing1  the  immi- 
nence of  the  inevitable  danger,  some  of 
them  stripped  themselves  of  part  of  their 
clothes,  waiting-  for  the  moment  to  make 
a  last  effort,  to  dispute  their  lives  with 
the  fury  of  the  waves  ;  others,  renounc- 
ing all  hope,  prepared  to  meet  death  with 
stocial  indifference. 

Here  and  there,  touching  or  awful  epi- 
sodes rose  in  relief,  if  one  may  so  express 
it,  from  this  dark  and  gloomy  background 
of  despair. 

A  young  man  of  about  eighteen  or 
twenty,  with  shiny  black  hair,  copper- 
colored  complexion,  and  perfectly  regu- 
lar and  handsome  features,  contemplated 
this  scene  of  dismay  and  horror  with  that 
sad  calmness  peculiar  to  those  who  have 
often  braved  great  perils ;  wrapped  in  a 
cloak,  he  leaned  his  back  against  the  bul- 
warks, .with  his  feet  resting  against  one 
of  the  bulkheads.  Suddenly,  the  unhappy 
mother,  who,  with  her  child  in  her  arms, 
and  gold  in  her  hand,  had  in  vain  ad- 
dressed herself  to  several  of  the  mariners, 
to  beg  them  to  save  her  boy,  perceiving 
the  young  man  with  the  copper-colored 
complexion,  threw  herself  on  her  knees 
before  him,  and  lifted  her  child  toward 
him  with  a  burst  of  inexpressible  agon}7. 
The  young  man  took  it,  mournfully  shook 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  883 

his  head,  and  pointed  to  the  furious  waves 
— but,  with  a  meaning1  gesture,  he  ap- 
peared to  promise  that  he  would  at  least 
try  to  save  it.  Then  the  young1  mother,  in 
a  mad  transport  of  joy,  seized  the  hand  of 
the  youth,  and  bathed  it  with  her  tears. 

Further  on,  another  passenger  of  the 
Black  Eagle  seemed  animated  by  senti- 
ments of  the  most  active  pity.  One  would 
hardly  have  given  him  flve-and-twenty 
years  of  age.  His  long,  fair  locks  fell  in 
curls  on  either  side  of  his  angelic  coun- 
tenance. He  wore  a  black  cassock  and 
white  neck-band.  Applying-  himself  to 
comfort  the  most  desponding-,  he  went 
from  one  to  tfre  other,  and  spoke  to  them 
pious  words  of  hope  and  resignation  ;  to 
hear  him  console  some,  and  encourage 
others,  in  languag-e  full  of  unction,  ten- 
derness, and  ineffable  charity,  one  would 
have  supposed  him  unaware  of  or  indiffer- 
ent to  the  perils  that  he  shared. 

On  his  fine,  mild  features  was  impressed 
a  calm  and  sacred  intrepidity,  a  relig- 
ious abstraction  from  every  terrestrial 
thought ;  from  time  to  time,  he  raised  to 
heaven  his  large  blue  eyes,  beaming  with 
gratitude,  love,  and  serenity,  as  if  to  thank 
God  for  having  called  him  to  one  of  "those 
formidable  trials  in  which  the  man  of  hu- 
manity and  courage  may  devote  himself 


384  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

for  his  brethren,  and,  if  not  able  to  rescue 
them  all,  at  least  die  with  them,  pointing1 
to  the  sky.  One  might  almost  have  taken 
him  for  an  angel,  sent  down  to  render  less 
cruel  the  strokes  of  inexorable  fate. 

Strange  contrast !  not  far  from  this 
young  man's  angelic  beauty  there  was 
another  being,  who  resembled  an  evil 
spirit ! 

Boldly  mounted  on  what  was  left  of  the 
bowsprit,  to  which  he  held  on  by  means  of 
some  remaining  cordage,  this  man  looked 
down  upon  the  terrible  scene  that  was 
passing  on  the  deck.  A  grim,  wild  joy 
lighted  up  his  countenance  of  a  dead 
yellow,  that  tint  peculiar  to  those  who 
spring  from  the  union  of  the  white  race 
with  the  East.  He  wore  only  a  shirt  and 
linen  drawers;  from  his  neck  was  sus- 
pended, by  a  cord,  a  cylindrical  tin  box, 
similar  to  that  in  which  soldiers  carry 
their  leave  of  absence. 

The  more  the  danger  augmented,  the 
nearer  the  ship  came  to  the  breakers,  or 
to  a  collision  with  the  steamer,  which  she 
was  now  rapidly  approaching — a  terrible 
collision  which  would  probably  cause  the 
two  vessels  to  founder  before  even  they 
touched  the  rocks — the  more  did  the  in- 
fernal joy  of  this  passenger  reveal  itself  in 
frightful  transports.  He  seemed  to  long 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  885 

with  ferocious  impatience  for  the  moment 
when  the  work  of  destruction  should  be 
accomplished.  To  see  him  thus  feasting 
with  avidity  on  all  the  agony,  the  terror, 
and.  the  despair  of  those  around  him,  one 
might  have  taken  him  for  the  apostle  of 
one  of  those  sanguinary  deities,  who,  in 
barbarous  countries,  preside  over  murder 
and  carnage. 

~By  this  time  the  Black  Eagle,  driven 
by  the  wind  and  waves,  came  so  near  the 
William  Tell  that  the  passengers  on  the 
deck  of  the  nearly  dismantled  steamer 
were  visible  from  the  first-named  vessel. 

These  passengers  were  no  longer  numer- 
ous. The  heavy  sea,  which  stove  in  the 
paddle-box  and  broke  one  of  the  paddles, 
had  also  carried  away  nearly  the  whole  of 
the  bulwarks  on  that  side ;  the  waves, 
entering  every  instant  by  this  large  open- 
ing, swept  the  decks  with  irresistible  vio- 
lence, and  every  time  bore  away  with  them 
some  fresh  victims. 

Among-  the  passengers,  who  seemed 
only  to  have  escaped  this  danger  to  be 
hurled  against  the  rocks,  or  crushed  in  the 
encounter  of  the  two  vessels,  one  group 
was  especially  worthy  of  the  most  tender 
and  painful  interest.  Taking  refuge  abaft, 
a  tall  old  man,  with  bald  forehead  and 
gray  mustache,  had  lashed  himself  to  a 
VOL.  1—17 


886  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

stanchion,  by  winding-  a  piece  of  rope  round 
his  bccty,  while  he  clasped  in  his  arms  and 
held  fast  to  his  breast  two  grirls  of  fifteen 
or  sixteen,  half-enveloped  in  a  pelisse  of 
reindeer-skin.  A  large,  fallow  Siberian 
dog1,  dripping  with  water,  and  barking1 
furiously  at  the  waves,  stood  close  to  their 
feet. 

These  girls,  clasped  in  the  arms  of  the 
old  man,  also  pressed  close  to  each  other ; 
but,  far  from  being-  lost  in  terror,  they 
raised  their  eyes  to  heaven,  full  of  confi- 
dence and  ingenuous  hope,  as  though  they 
expected  to  be  saved  by  the  intervention 
of  some  supernatural  power. 

A  frightful  shriek  of  horror  and  despair, 
raised  by  the  passeng-ers  of  both  the  ves- 
sels, was  heard  suddenly  above  the  roar 
of  the  tempest.  At  the  moment  when, 
plunging-  deeply  between  two  waves,  the 
broadside  of  the  steamer  was  turned 
toward  the  bows  of  the  ship,  the -latter, 
lifted  to  a  prodigious  height  on  a  mountain 
of  water,  remained,  as  it  were,  suspended 
over  the  William  Tell,  during  the  second 
which  preceded  the  shock  of  the  two  ves- 
sels. 

There  are  sights  of  so  sublime  a  horror 
that  it  is  impossible  to  describe  them. 
Yet,  in  the  midst  of  these  catastrophes, 
swift  as  thought,  one  catches  sometimes 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  8Q7 

a  momentary  glimpse  of  a  picture,  rapid 
and  fleeting-,  as  if  illumined  by  a  flash  of 
lightning. 

Thus,  when  the  Black  Eagle,  poised 
aloft  by  the  flood,  was  about  to  crash 
down  upon  the  William  Tell,  the  young 
man  with  the  angelic  countenance  and 
fair,  waving  locks  bent  over  the  prow  of 
the  ship,  ready  to  cast  himself  into  the 
sea  to  save  some  victim.  Suddenly,  he 
perceived  on  board  the  steamer,  on  which 
he  looked  down  from  the  summit  of  the 
immense  wave,  the  two  girls  extending 
their  arms  toward  him  in  supplication. 
They  appeared  to  recognize  him,  and 
gazed  on  him  with  a  sort  of  ecstasy  and 
religious  homage  ! 

For  a  second,  in  spite  of  the  horrors  of 
the  tempest,  in  spite  of  the  approaching 
shipwreck,  the  looks  of  those  three  beings 
met.  The  features  of  the  young  man 
were  expressive  of  sudden  and  profound 
pity ;  for  the  maidens,  with  their  hands 
clasped  in  prayer,  seemed  to  invoke  him 
as  their  expected  Saviour.  The  old  man, 
struck  down  by  the  fall  of  a  plank,  lay 
helpless  on  the  deck.  Soon  all  disappeared 
together. 

A  fearful  mass  of  water  dashed  the 
Black  Eagle  down  upon  the.  William 
Tell,  in  the  midst  of  a  cloud  of  boiling 


888  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

foam.  To  the  dreadful  crash  of  the  two 
great  bodies  of  wood  and  iron,  which, 
splintering-  against  one  another,  instantly 
foundered,  one  loud  cry  was  added — a 
cry  of  agony  and  death — the  cry  $f  a 
hundred  human  creatures  swallowed  up 
at  once  by  the  waves  ! 

And  then — nothing"  more  was  visible  ! 

A  few  moments  after,  the  fragments  of 
the  two  vessels  appeared  in  the  trough 
of  the  sea,  and  on  the  caps  of  the  waves — 
with  here  and  there  the  contracted  arms, 
the  livid  and  despairing  faces  of  some  un- 
happy wretches,  striving  to  make  their 
way  to  the  reefs  along  the  shore,  at  the 
risk  of  being  crushed  to  death  by  the  shock 
of  the  furious  breakers. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    SHIPWRECKED. 

WHILE  the  bailiff  was  gone  to  the  sea- 
shore, to  render  help  to  those  of  the  pas- 
sengers who  might  escape  from  the  inevi- 
table shipwreck,  M,  Rodin,  conducted  by 
Catherine  to  the  Green  Chamber,  had 
there  found  the  articles  that  he  was  to 
take  with  him  to  Paris. 

After  passing  two  hours  in  this  apart- 
ment, very  indifferent  to  the  fate  of  the 
shipwrecked  persons,  which  alone  ab- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  889 

sorbed  the  attention  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Castle,  Rodin  returned  to  the  chamber 
commonly  occupied  by  the  bailiff,  a  room 
which  opened  upon  a  long-  gallery.  When 
he  entered  it  he  found  nobody  there.  Un- 
der his  arm  he  held  a  casket,  with  silver 
fastening-s,  almost  black  from  age,  while 
one  end  of  a  large  red  morocco  portfolio 
projected  from  the  breast-pocket  of  his 
half-buttoned  great-coat. 

Had  the  cold  and  livid  countenance  of 
the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny's  secretary  been 
able  to  express  joy  otherwise  than  by  a 
sarcastic  smile,  his  features  would  have 
been  radiant  with  delight ;  for,  just  then, 
he  was  under  the  influence  of  the  most 
agreeable  thoughts.  Having1  placed  the 
casket  upon  a  table,  it  was  with  marked 
satisfaction  that  he  thus  communed  with 
himself  : 

"  All  goes  well.  It  was  prudent  to 
keep  these  papers  here  till  this  moment, 
for  one  must  always  be  on  guard  against 
the  diabolical  spirit  of  that  Adrienne  de 
Cardoville,  who  appears  to  guess  instinct- 
ively what  it  is  impossible  she  should 
know.  Fortunately,  the  time  approaches 
when  we  shall  have  no  more  need  to  fear 
her.  Her  fate  will  be  a  cruel  one ;  it 
must  be  so.  Those  proud,  independent 
characters  are  at  all  times  our  natural 


390  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

enemies — they  are  so  by  their  very  es- 
sence— how  much  more  when  they  show 
themselves  peculiarly  hurtful  and  danger- 
ous  !  As  for  La  Sainte  Colombe,  the  bail- 
iff is  sure  to  act  for  us ;  between  what 
the  fool  calls  his  conscience,  and  the  dread 
of  being-  at  his  age  deprived  of  a  liveli- 
hood, he  will  not  hesitate.  I  wish  to  have 
him  because  he  will  serve  us  better  than 
a  stranger ;  his  having1  been  here  twenty 
years  will  prevent  all  suspicion  on  the 
part  of  that  dull  and  narrow-minded  wo- 
man. Once  in  the  hands  of  our  man  at 
Roiville,  I  will  answer  for  the  result.  The 
course  of  all  such  gross  and  stupid  women 
is  traced  beforehand  :  in  their  youth,  they 
serve  the  devil ;  in  riper  years,  they  make 
others  serve  him  ;  in  their  old  age,  they 
are  horribly  afraid  of  him  ;  and  this  fear 
must  continue  till  she  has  left  us  the  Cha- 
teau de  Cardoville,  which,  from  its  iso- 
lated position,  will  make  us  an  excellent 
college.  All  then  goes  well.  As  for  the 
affair  of  the  medals,  the  13th  of  February 
approaches  without  news  from  Joshua — 
evidently,  Prince  Djalina  is  still  kept 
prisoner  by  the  English  in  the  heart  of 
India,  or  I  must  have  received  letters  from 
Batavia.  The  daughters  of  General  Si- 
mon will  be  detained  at  Leipsic  for  at 
least  a  month  longer.  All  our  foreign  re- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  391 

lations  are  in  the  best  condition.  As  for 
our  internal  affairs — 

Here  M.  Rodin  was  interrupted  in  the 
current  of  his  reflections  by  the  entrance 
of  Madame  Dupont,  who  was  zealously 
engaged  in  preparations  to  give  assistance 
in  case  of  need. 

"  Now,"  said  she  to  a  servant,  "  light 
a  fire  in  the  next  room  ;  put  this  warm 
wine  there  :  your  master  may  be  in  every 
minute." 

"Well,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Rodin 
to  her,  "do  they  hope  to  save  any  of  these 
poor  creatures  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  I  do  not  know,  sir.  My  husband 
has  been  gone  nearly  two  hours.  I  am 
terribly  uneasy  on  his  account.  He  is  so 
courageous,  so  imprudent,  if  once  he 
thinks  he  can  be  of  any  service." 

"  Courageous  even  to  imprudence,"  said 
Rodin  to  himself,  impatiently ;  "  I  do  not 
like  that." 

"Well,"  resumed  Catherine,  "I  have 
here  at  hand  my  hot  linen,  my  cordials — 
heaven  grant  it  may  all  be  of  use  !  " 

"  We  may  at  least  hope  so,  my  dear 
madam.  I  very  much  regretted  that  my 
age  and  weakness  did  not  permit  me  to 
assist  your  excellent  husband.  I  also  re- 
gret not  being  able  to  wait  for  the  issue 
of  his  exertions,  and  to  wish  him  joy  if 


392  THE  WANDEKING  JEW. 

successful — for  I  am  unfortunately  com- 
pelled to  depart — my  moments  are  pre- 
cious. I  shall  be  much  obliged  if  you  will 
have  the  carriage  got  ready." 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  will  see  about  it  directly." 

"  One  word,  my  dear,  good  Madame 
Dupont.  You  are  a  woman  of  sense  and 
excellent  judgment.  Now  I  have  put 
your  husband  in  the  way  to  keep,  if  he 
will,  his  situation  as  bailiff  of  the  estate — " 

' '  Is  it  possible  ?  What  gratitude  do  we 
not  owe  you  !  Without  this  place  what 
would  become  of  us  at  our  time  of  life  ?  " 

"  I  have  only  saddled  my  promise  with 
two  conditions — mere  trifles — he  will  ex- 
plain all  that  to  you." 

"Ah,  sir  !  we  shall  regard  you  as  our 
deliverer." 

"  You  are  too  good.  Only,  on  two  little 
conditions — " 

"  If  there  were  a  hundred,  sir,  we 
should  gladly  accept  them.  Think  what 
we  should  be  without  this  place — penniless 
— absolutely  penniless  !  " 

"  I  reckon  upon  you  then ;  for  the  inter- 
est of  your  husband,  you  will  try  to  per- 
suade him." 

"Missus!  I  say,  missus!  here's  master 
come  back,"  cried  a  servant,  rushing  into 
the  chamber. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  398 

"Has  he  many  with  him?" 

"No,  missus;  he  is  alone." 

"Alone!  alone?" 

"Quite  alone,  missus." 

A  few  moments  after,  M.  Dupont  en- 
tered the  room;  his  clothes  were  stream- 
ing with  water ;  to  keep  his  hat  on  in  the 
midst  of  the  storm,  he  had  tied  it  down 
to  his  head  by  means  of  his  cravat,  which 
was  knotted  under  his  chin;  his  gaiters 
were  covered  with  chalky  stains. 

"There,  I  have^thee,  my  dear  love!" 
cried  his  wife,  tenderly  embracing  him. 
"I  have  been  so  uneasy!" 

"  Up  to  the  present  moment  — •  THREE 
SAVED." 

"God  be  praised,  my  dear  M.  Dupont!" 
said  Rodin ;  "  at  least  your  efforts  will  not 
have  been  all  in  vain." 

"Three!  only  three?"  said  Catherine. 
"  Gracious  Heaven !" 

"I  only  speak  of  those  I  saw  myself, 
near  the  little  creek  of  Goelands.  Let  us 
hope  there  may  be  more  saved  on  other 
parts  of  the  coast." 

"Yes,  indeed;  happily,  the  shore  is  not 
equally  steep  in  all  parts." 

"  And  where  are  these  interesting  suffer- 
ers, my  dear  sir?"  asked  Rodin,  who  could 
not  avoid  remaining  a  few  instants  longer. 


394  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  They  are  mounting  the  cliffs,  supported 
by  our  people.  As  they  cannot  walk  very 
fast,  I  ran  on  before  to  console  my  wife, 
and  to  take  the  necessary  measures  for 
their  reception.  First  of  all,  my  dear,  you 
must  get  ready  some  women's  clothes." 

"  There  is  then  a  woman  among  the  per- 
sons saved?" 

"  There  are  two  girls — fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  of  age  at  the  most — mere  children — 
and  so  pretty!" 

"Poor  little  things!"  said  Rodin,  with 
an  affectation  of  interest. 

"The  person  to  whom  they  owe  their 
lives  is  with  them.  He  is  a  real  hero!" 

"A  hero?" 

"  Yes ;  only  fancy — " 

"  You  can  tell  me  all  this  by  and  by. 
Just  slip  on  this  dry,  warm  dressing- 
gown,  and  take  some  of  .this  hot  wine. 
You  are  wet  through." 

"  I'll  not  refuse,  for  I  am  almost  frozen 
to  death.  I  was  telling  you  that  the  per- 
son who  saved  these  young  girls  was  a 
hero;  and  certainly  his  courage  was  be- 
yond anything  one  could  have  imagined. 
When  I  left  here  with  the  men  of  the 
farm,  we  descended  the  little  winding 
path,  and  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff 
— near  the  little  creek  of  Goelands,  fort- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  395 

unately  somewhat  sheltered  from  the 
waves  by  five  or  six  enormous  masses  of 
rock  stretching  out  into  the  sea.  Well, 
what  should  we  find  there?  Why,  the 
two  young  girls  I  spoke  of,  in  a  swoon, 
with  their  feet  still  in  the  water,  and  their 
bodies  resting  against  a  rock,  as  though 
they  had  been  placed  there  by  some  one, 
after  being  withdrawn  from  the  sea." 

"Dear  children!  it  is  quite  touching!" 
said  M.  Rodin,  raising,  as  usual,  the  tip 
of  his  little  finger  to  the  corner  of  his 
right  eye,  as  though  to  dry  a  tear,  which 
was  very  seldom  visible. 

"  What  struck  me  was  their  great  re- 
semblance to  each  other,"  resumed  the 
bailiff;  "only  one  in  the  habit  of  seeing 
them  could  tell  the  difference." 

"Twin-sisters,  no  doubt,"  said  Madame 
Dupont. 

"One  of  the  poor  things,"  continued  the 
bailiff,  "held  between  her  clasped  hands 
a  little  bronze  medal,  which  was  suspended 
from  her  neck  by  a  chain  of  the  same  ma- 
terial." 

Rodin  generally  maintained  a  very 
stooping  posture;  but,  at  these  last  words 
of  the  bailiff,  he  drew  himself  up  sudden- 
ly, while  a  faint  color  spread  itself  over 
his  livid  cheeks.  In  any  other  person, 


396  THS  WANDERING  JEW. 

these  symptoms  would  have  appeared  of 
little  consequence;  but  in  Rodin,  accus- 
tomed for  long  years  to  control  and  dis- 
simulate his  emotions,  they  announced  no 
ordinary  excitement.  Approaching  the 
bailiff,  he  said  to  him  in  a  slightly  agi- 
tated voice,  but  still  with  an  air  of  in- 
difference :  "  It  was  doubtless  a  pious  relic. 
Did  you  see  what  was  inscribed  on  this 
medal?" 

" No,  sir;  I  did  not  think  of  it." 

"  And  the  two  young  girls  were  like  one 
another — very  much  like,  you  say?" 

"So  like,  that  one  would  hardly  know 
which  was  which.  Probably  they  are  or- 
phans, for  they  are  dressed  in  mourning." 

"Oh!  dressed  in  mourning?"  said  M. 
Rodin,  with  another  start. 

"Alas!  orphans  so  young!"  said  Ma- 
dame Dupont,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  As  they  had  fainted  away,  we  carried 
them  further  on  to  a  place  where  the  sand 
was  quite  dry.  While  we  were  busy  about 
this,  we  saw  the  head  of  a  man  appear 
from  behind  one  of  the  rocks,  which  he 
was  trying  to  climb,  clinging  to  it  by  one 
hand ;  we  ran  to  him,  and  luckily  in  the 
nick  of  time,  for  he  was  clean  worn  out, 
and  fell  exhausted  into  the  arms  of  our 
men.  It  was  of  him  I  spoke,  when  I 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  397 

talked  of  a  hero;  for,  not  content  with 
having  saved  the  two  young  girls  by  his 
admirable  courage,  he  had  attempted  to 
rescue  a  third  person,  and  had  actually 
gone  back  among  the  rocks  and  breakers 
— but  his  strength  failed  him,  and,  with- 
out the  aid  of  our  men,  he  would  certainly 
have  been  washed  away  from  the  ridge  to 
which  he  clung." 

"  He  must  indeed  be  a  fine  fellow !"  said 
Catherine. 

Rodin,  with  his  head  bowed  upon  his 
breast,  seemed  quite  indifferent  to  this 
conversation.  The  dismay  and  stupor, 
in  which  he  had  been  plunged,  only  in- 
creased upon  reflection.  The  two  girls, 
who  had  just  been  saved,  were  fifteen 
years  of  age ;  were  dressed  in  mourning ; 
were  so  alike  that  one  might  be  taken  for 
the  other;  one  of  them  wore  round  her 
neck  a  chain  with  a  bronze  medal;  he 
could  scarcely  doubt  that  they  were  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon.  But  how 
could  those  sisters  be  among  the  number 
of  shipwrecked  passengers?  How  could 
they  have  escaped  from  the  prison  at 
Leipsic?  How  did  it  happen  that  he 
had  not  been  informed  of  it?  Could 
they  have  fled,  or  had  they  been  set  at 
liberty?  How  was  it  possible  that  he 


898  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

should  not  be  apprised  of  such  an  event? 
But  these  secondary  thoughts,  which  of- 
fered themselves  in  crowds  to  the  mind 
of  M.  Rodin,  were  swallowed  up  in  the 
one  fact:  "The  daughters  of  General 
Simon  are  here!"  His  plan,  so  labori- 
ously laid,  was  thus  entirely  destroyed. 

"  When  I  speak  of  the  deliverer  of  these 
young  girls, "  resumed  the  bailiff,  address- 
ing his  wife,  and  without  remarking  M. 
Rodin's  absence  of  mind,  "you  are  expect- 
ing no  doubt  to  see  a  Hercules? — well,  he 
is  altogether  the  reverse.  He  is  almost  a 
boy  in  look,  with  fair,  sweet  face,  and 
light,  curling  locks.  I  left  him  a  cloak 
to  cover  him,  for  he  had  nothing  on  but 
his  shirt,  black  knee-breeches,  and  a  pair 
of  black  worsted  stockings — which  struck 
me  as  singular." 

"Why,  it  was  certainly  not  a  sailor's 
dress. " 

"  Besides,  though  the  ship  was  English, 
I  believe  my  hero  is  a  Frenchman,  for  he 
speaks  our  language  as  well  as  we  do. 
What  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes,  was 
to  see  the  young  girls,  when  they  came  to 
themselves.  As  soon  as  they  saw  him, 
they  threw  themselves  at  his  feet,  and 
seemed  to  look  up  to  him  and  thank  him, 
as  one  would  pray.  Then  they  cast  their 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  399 

eyes  around  them,  as  if  in  search  of  some 
other  person,  and,  having  exchanged  a  few 
words,  they  fell  sobbing  into  each  other's 
arms." 

"What  a  dreadful  thing  it  is!  How 
many  poor  creatures  must  have  perished  !w 

"When  we  quitted  the  rocks,  the  sea 
had  already  cast  ashore  seven  dead  bodies, 
besides  fragments  of  the  wreck,  and  pack- 
ages. I  spoke  to  some  of  the  coast-guard, 
and  they  will  .remain  all  day  on  the  look- 
out; and  if,  as  I  hope,  any  more  should 
escape  with  life,  they  are  to  be  brought 
here.  But  surely  that  is  the  sound  of 
voices ! — yes,  it  is  our  shipwrecked  guests !" 

The  bailiff  and  his  wife  ran  to  the  door 
of  the  room — that  door,  which  opened  on 
the  long  gallery — while  Rodin,  biting  con- 
vulsively his  flat  nails,  awaited  with  angry 
impatience  the  arrival  of  the  strangers.  A 
touching  picture  soon  presented  itself  to  his 
view. 

From  the  end  of  the  darksome  gallery, 
only  lighted  on  one  side  by  several  win- 
dows, three  persons,  conducted  by  a  peas- 
ant, advanced  slowly.  This  group  con- 
sisted of  the  two  maidens,  and  the  intrepid 
young  man  to  whom  they  owed  their  lives. 
Rose  and  Blanche  were  on  either  side  of 
their  deliverer,  who,  walking  with  great 


400  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

difficulty,  supported  himself  lightly  on 
their  arms. 

Though  he  was  full  twenty-five  years  of 
age,  the  juvenile  countenance  of  this  man 
made  him  appear  much  younger.  His 
long,  fair  hair,  parted  on  the  forehead, 
streamed  wet  and  smooth  oyer  the  collar 
of  a  large  brown  cloak,  with  which  he 
had  been  covered.  It  would  be  difficult 
to  describe  the  adorable  expression  of  good- 
ness in  his  pale,  mild  face,  .as  pure  as  the 
most  ideal  creations  of  Raphael's  pencil — 
for  that  divine  artist  alone  could  have 
caught  the  melancholy  grace  of  those  ex- 
quisite features,  the  serenity  of  that  celes- 
tial look,  from  eyes  limpid  and  blue  as 
those  of  an  archangel,  or  of  a  martyr 
ascended  to  the  skies. 

Yes,  of  a  martyr!  for  a  blood-red  halo 
already  encircled  that  beauteous  head. 
Piteous  sight  to  see !  just  above  his  light 
eyebrows,  and  rendered  still  more  visible 
by  the  effect  of  the  cold,  a  narrow  cicatrix 
from  a  wound  inflicted  many  months  be- 
fore, appeared  to  encompass  his  fair  fore- 
head with  a  purple  band ;  and  (still  more 
sad!)  his  hands  had  been  cruelly  pierced 
by  a  crucifixion — his  feet  had  suffered  the 
same  injury — and,  if  he  now  walked  with 
so  much  difficulty,  it  was  that  his  wounds 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  401 

had   reopened,    as  he  struggled  over  the 
sharp  rocks. 

This  young  man  was  Gabriel,  the  priest 
attached  to  the  foreign  mission,  the  adopted 
son  of  Dagobert's  wife.  He  was  a  priest 
and  martyr — for,  in  our  days,  there  are 
still  martyrs,  as  in  the  time  when  the 
Caesars  flung  the  early  Christians  to  the 
lions  and  tigers  of  the  circus. 

Yes,  in  our  days,  the  children  of  the 
people  —  for  it  is  almost  always  among 
them  that  heroic  and  disinterested  devo- 
tion may  still  be  found — the  children  of 
the  people,  led  by  an  honorable  convic- 
tion, because  it  is  courageous  and  sincere, 
go  to  all  parts  of  the  world,  to  try  and 
propagate  their  faith,  and  brave  both  tor- 
ture and  death  with  the  most  unpretend- 
ing valor. 

How  many  of  them,  victims  of  some  bar- 
barous tribe,  have  perished,  obscure  and 
unknown,  in  the  midst  of  the  solitudes 
of  the  two  worlds! — And  for  these  humble 
soldiers  of  the  cross,  who  have  nothing  but 
their  faith  and  their  intrepidity,  there  are 
never  reserved  on  their  return  (and  they 
seldom  do  return)  the  rich  and  sumptuous 
dignities  of  the  Church.  Never  does  the 
purple  or  the  miter  conceal  their  scarred 
brows  and  mutilated  limbs ;  like  the  great 


403  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

majority  of  other  soldiers,  they  die  for- 
gotten.* 

In  their  ingenuous  gratitude,  the  daugh- 
ters of  General  Simon,  as  soon  as  they  re- 
covered their  senses  after  the  shipwreck, 
and  felt  themselves  able  to  ascend  the  cliffs, 
would  not  leave  to  any  other  person  the 
care  of  sustaining  the  faltering  steps  of 
him  who  had  rescued  them  from  certain 
death. 

The  black  garments  of  Rose  and  Blanche 
streamed  with  water;  their  faces  were 
deadly  pale,  and  expressive  of  deep  grief; 
the  marks  of  recent  tears  were  oil  their 
cheeks,  and,  with  sad,  downcast  eyes, 
they  trembled  both  from  agitation  and 
cold,  as  the  agonizing  thought  recurred 
to  them,  that  they  should  never  again  see 
Dagobert,  their  friend  and  guide;  for  it 

*We  always  remember  with  emotion  the  end  of 
a  letter  written,  two  or  three  years  ago,  by  one 
of  these  young  and  valiant  missionaries,  the  son 
of  poor  parents  in  Beauce.  He  was  writing  to  his 
mother  from  the  heart  of  Japan,  and  thus  con- 
cluded his  letter :  "Adieu,  my  dear  mother !  they 
say  there  is  much  danger  where  I  am  now  sent  to. 
Pray  for  me,  and  tell  all  our  good  neighbors  that 
I  think  of  them  very  often. " — These  few  words, 
addressed  from  the  center  of  Asia  to  poor  peasants 
in  a  hamlet  of  France,  are  only  the  more  touching 
from  their  very  simplicity. — E.  8. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  408 

was  to  him  that  Gabriel  had  stretched 
forth  a  helping  hand,  to  assist  him  to 
climb  the  rocks.  Unfortunately,  the 
strength  of  both  had  failed,  and  the 
soldier  had  been  carried  away  by  a 
retreating  wave. 

The  sight  of  Gabriel  was  a  fresh  sur- 
prise for  Rodin,  who  had  retired  on  one 
side,  in  order  to  observe  all;  but  this  sur- 
prise was  of  so  pleasant  a  nature,  and  he 
felt  so  much  joy  in  beholding  the  mission- 
ary safe  after  such  imminent  peril,  that 
the  painful  impression,  caused  by  the  view 
of  General  Simon's  daughters,  was  a  little 
softened.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
the  presence  of  Gabriel  in  Paris,  on  the 
13th  of  February,  was  essential  to  the  suc- 
cess of  Rodin's  projects. 

The  bailiff  and  his  wife,  who  were 
greatly  moved  at  sight  of  the  orphans, 
approached  them  with  eagerness.  Just 
then  a  farm-boy  entered  the  room,  cry- 
ing: "Sir!  sir!  good  news — two  more 
saved  from  the  wreck!" 

"Blessing  and  praise  to  God  for  it!" 
said  the  missionary. 

"Where  are  they?"  asked  the  bailiff, 
hastening  toward  the  door. 

"  There  is  one  who  can  walk,  and  is  fol- 
lowing behind  me  with  Justin ;  the  other 


404  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

was  wounded  against  the  rocks,  and  they 
are  carrying  him  on  a  litter  made  of 
branches."  , 

"  I  will  run  and  have  him  placed  in  the 
room  below,"  said  the  bailiff,  as  he  went 
out.  "Catherine,  you  can  look  to  the 
young  ladies." 

"And  the  shipwrecked  man  who  can 
walk — where  is  he?"  asked  the  bailiff's 
wife. 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  the  peasant,  pointing 
to  some  one  who  came  rapidly  along  the 
gallery;  "when  he  heard  that  the  two 
young  ladies  were  safe  in  the  chateau — 
though  he  is  old,  and  wounded  in  the 
head,  he  took  such  great  strides,  that  it 
was  all  I  could  do  to  get  here  before  him." 

Hardly  had  the  peasant  pronounced 
these  words,  when  Eose  and  Blanche, 
springing  up  by  a  common  impulse, 
flew  to  the  door.  They  arrived  there 
at  the  same  moment  as  Dagobert. 

The  soldier,  unable  to  utter  a  syllable, 
fell  on  his  knees  •  at  the  threshold,  and 
extended  his  arms  to  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon;  while  Spoilsport,  run- 
ning to  them,  licked  their  hands. 

But  the  emotion  was  too  much  for 
Dagobert;  and,  when  he  had  clasped  the 
orphans  in  his  arms,  his  head  fell  back- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  405 

ward,  and  he  would  have  sunk  down  alto- 
gether, but  for  the  care  of  the  peasants. 
In  spite  of  the  observations  of  the  bailiff's 
wife,  on  their  state  of  weakness  and  agi- 
tation, the  two  young  girls  insisted  on 
accompanying  Dagobert,  who  was  carried 
fainting  into  an  adjoining  apartment. 

At  sight  of  the  soldier,  Rodin's  face  was 
again  violently  contracted,  for  he  had  till 
then  believed  that  the  guide  of  General 
Simon's  daughters  was  dead.  The  mis- 
sionary, worn  out  with  fatigue,  was  lean- 
ing upon  a  chair,  and  had  not  yet  perceived 
Rodin. 

A  new  personage,  a  man  with  a  dead 
yellow  complexion,  now  entered  the  room, 
accompanied  by  another  peasant,  who 
pointed  out  Gabriel  to  him.  This  man, 
who  had  just  borrowed  a  smock-frock 
and  a  pair  of  trousers,  approached  the 
missionary,  and  said  to  him  in  French, 
but  with  a  foreign  accent:  "Prince  Djal- 
ma  has  just  been  brought  in  here.  His 
first  word  was  to  ask  for  you." 

"What  does  that  man  say?"  cried 
Rodin,  in  a  voice  of  thunder;  for  at 
the  name  of  Djalma,  he  had  sprung 
with  one  bound  to  Gabriel's  side. 

"  M.  Rodin !"  exclaimed  the  missionary, 
falling  back  in  surprise. 


406  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

"M.  Kodin,"  cried  the  other  ship  wrecked 
person;  and,  from  that  moment,  he  kept 
his  eye  fixed  on  the  correspondent  of  M. 
Van  Dael. 

"You  here,  sir?"  said  Gahriel,  ap- 
proaching Rodin  with  an  air  of  defer- 
ence, not  unmixed  with  fear. 

"What  did  that  man  say  to  you?"  re- 
peated Rodin,  in  an  excited  tone.  "Did 
he  not  utter  the  name  of  Prince  Djalma?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Prince  Djalma  was  one  of 
the  passengers  on  board  the  English  ship 
which  came  from  Alexandria,  and  in 
which  we  have  just  been  wrecked.  This 
vessel  touched  at  the  Azores,  where  I 
then  was ;  the  ship  that  brought  me  from 
Charlestown  having  been  obliged  to  put 
in  there,  and  being  likely  to  remain  for 
some  time  on  account  of  serious  damage, 
I  embarked  on  board  the  Black  Eagle, 
where  I  met  Prince  Djalma.  We  were 
bound  to  Portsmouth,  and  from  thence 
my  intention  was  to  proceed  to  France." 

Rodin  did  not  care  to  interrupt  Gabriel. 
This  new  shock  had  completely  paralyzed 
his  thoughts.  At  length,  like  a  man  who 
catches  at  a  last  hope,  which  he  knows 
beforehand  to  be  vain,  he  said  to  Gabriel : 
"  Can  you  tell  me  who  this  Prince  Djalma 
is?" 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  407 

"A  young  man  as  good  as  brave — the 
son  of  an  East  Indian  king,  dispossessed 
of  his  territory  by  the  English." 

Then,  turning  toward  the  other  ship- 
wrecked man,  the  missionary  said  to 
him  with  anxious  interest :  "  How  is  the 
prince?  are  his  wounds  dangerous?" 

"  They  are  serious  contusions,  but  they 
will  not  be  mortal,"  answered  the  other. 

"  Heaven  be  praised  I"  said  the  mission- 
ary, addressing  Rodin;  "here,  you  see,  is 
another  saved." 

"So  much  the  better,"  observed  Rodin, 
in  a  quick,  imperious  tone. 

"I  will  go  see  him,"  said  Gabriel,  sub- 
missively. "  You  have  no  orders  to  give 
me?" 

"  Will  you  be  able  to  leave  this  place  in 
two  or  three  hours,  notwithstanding  your 
fatigues?" 

"If  it  be   necessary — yes." 

"  It  is  necessary.  You  will  go  with 
me." 

Gabriel  only  bowed  in  reply,  and  Rodin 
sunk  confounded  into  a  chair,  while  the 
missionary  went  out  with  the  peasant. 
The  man  with  the  sallow  complexion 
still  lingered  in  a  corner  of  the  room, 
unperceived  by  Rodin. 

This    man    was    Faringhea,    the    half- 


408  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

caste,  one  of  the  three  chiefs  of  the 
Stranglers.  Having  escaped  the  pursuit 
of  the  soldiers  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi, 
he  had  killed  Mahal  the  Smuggler,  and 
robbed  him  of  the  dispatches  written  by 
M.  Joshua  van  Dael  to  Rodin,  as  also 
of  the  letter  by  which  the  Smuggler  was 
to  have  been  received  as  passenger  on 
board  the  Ruyter.  When  Faringhea 
left  the  hut  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi,  he 
had  not  been  seen  by  Djalma;  and  the 
latter,  when  he  met  him  on  shipboard, 
after  his  escape  (which  we  shall  explain 
by  and  by),  not  knowing  that  he  belonged 
to  the  sect  of  Phansegars,  treated  him 
during  the  voyage  as  a  fellow-country- 
man. 

Rodin,  with  his  eye  fixed  and  haggard, 
his  countenance  of  a  livid  hue,  biting  his 
nails  to  the  quick  in  silent  rage,  did  not 
perceive  the  half-caste,  who  quietly  ap- 
proached him,  and  laying  his  hand  famil- 
iarly on  his  shoulder,  said  to  him :  "  Your 
name  is  Rodin?" 

"  What  now?"  asked  the  other,  starting, 
and  raising  his  head  abruptly. 

"Your  name  is  Rodin?"  repeated  Far. 
inghea. 

"  Yes.     What  do  you  want?" 

"You  live  in  the  Rue  du  Milieu-des- 
Ursins,  Paris?" 


TEE  WANDERING  JEW.  409 

"Yes.  But,  once  more,  what  do  you 
want?" 

"Nothing  now,  brother;  hereafter, 
much !  " 

And  Faringhea,  retiring  with  slow 
steps,  left  Rodin  alarmed  at  what  had 
passed ;  for  this  man,  who  scarcely  trem- 
bled at  anything,  had  quailed  before  the 
dark  look  and  grim  visage  of  the  Stran- 
gler. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE   DEPARTURE    FOR   PARIS. 

THE  most  profound  silence  reigns 
throughout  Cardoville  House.  The  tem- 
pest has  lulled  by  degrees,  and  nothing  is 
heard  from  afar  but  the  hoarse  murmur 
of  the  waves,  as  they  wash  heavily  the 
shore. 

Dagobert  and  the  orphans  have  been 
lodged  in  warm  and  comfortable  apart- 
ments on  the  first  floor  of  the  chateau. 
Djalma,  too  severely  hurt  to  be  carried 
upstairs,  has  remained  in  a  room  below. 
At  the  moment  of  the  shipwreck,  a  weep- 
ing mother  had  placed  her  child  in  his 
arms.  He  had  failed  in  the  attempt  to 
snatch  this  unfortunate  infant  from  cer- 
tain death,  but  his  generous  devotion  had 
"Vol..  i— IS 


410  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

hampered  his  movements,  and  when  thrown 
upon  the  rocks,  he  was  almost  dashed  to 
pieces.  Faringhea,  who  has  been  able 
to  convince  him  of  his  affection,  remains 
to  watch  over  him. 

Gabriel,  after  administering  consolation 
to  Djalma,  has  reascended  to  the  chamber 
allotted  to  him ;  faithful  to  the  promise  he 
made  to  Rodin,  to  be  ready  to  set  out  in 
two  hours,  he  has  not  gone  to  bed;  but, 
having  dried  his  clothes,  he  has  fallen 
asleep  in  a  large,  high-backed  armchair, 
placed  in  front  of  a  bright  coal  -  fire. 
His  apartment  is  situated  near  those  oc- 
cupied by  Dagobert  and  the  two  sisters. 

Spoilsport,  probably  quite  at  his  ease  in 
so  respectable  a  dwelling,  has  quitted  the 
door  of  Rose  and  Blanche's  chamber,  to 
lie  down  and  warm  himself  at  the  hearth, 
by  the  side  of  which  the  missionary  is 
sleeping.  There,  with  his  nose  resting 
on  his  outstretched  paws,  he  enjoys  a 
feeling  of  perfect  comfort  and  repose, 
after  so  many  perils  by  land  and  sea. 
We  will  not  venture  to  affirm  that  he 
thinks  habitually  of  poor  old  Jovial ;  un- 
less we  recognize  as  a  token  of  remem- 
brance on  his  part  his  irresistible  pro- 
pensity to  bite  all  the  white  horses  he 
has  met  with,  ever  since  the  death  of  his 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  411 

venerable  companion,  though,  before,  he 
was  the  most  inoffensive  of  dogs  with 
regard  to  horses  of  every  color. 

Presently  one  of  the  doors  of  the  cham- 
ber opened,  and  the  two  sisters  entered 
timidly.  Awake  for  some  minutes,  they 
had  risen  and  dressed  themselves,  feeling 
still  some  uneasiness  with  respect  to  Dago- 
bert ;  though  the  bailiff's  wife,  after  show- 
ing them  to  their  room,  had  returned  again 
to  tell  them  that  the  village  doctor  found 
nothing  serious  in  the  hurt  of  the  old  sol- 
dier, still  they  hoped  to  meet  some  one 
belonging  to  the  chateau,  of  whom  they 
could  make  further  inquiries  about  him. 

The  high  back  of  the  old-fashioned  arm- 
chair, in  which  Gabriel  was  sleeping,  com- 
pletely screened  him  from  view;  but  the 
orphans,  seeing  their  canine  friend  lying 
quietly  at  his  feet,  thought  it  was  Dago- 
bert  reposing  there,  and  hastened  toward 
him  on  tiptoe.  To  their  great  astonish- 
ment, they  saw  Gabriel  fast  asleep,  and 
stood  still  in  confusion,  not  daring  to  ad- 
vance or  recede,  for  fear  of  waking  him. 

The  long  light  hair  of  the  missionary 
was  no  longer  wet,  and  now  curled  natural- 
ly round  his  neck  and  shoulders;  the  pale- 
ness of  his  complexion  was  the  more  strik- 
ing, from  the  contrast  afforded  by  the  deep 


412  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

purple  of  the  damask  covering  of  the  arm- 
chair. His  beautiful  countenance  expressed 
a  profound  melancholy,  either  caused  by 
the  influence  of  some  painful  dream,  or 
else  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  keeping 
down,  when  awake,  some  sad  regrets, 
which  revealed  themselves  without  his 
knowledge  when  he  was  sleeping.  Not- 
withstanding this  appearance  of.  bitter 
grief,  his  features  preserved  their  char- 
acter of  angelic  sweetness,  and  seemed 
endowed  with  an  inexpressible  charm, 
for  nothing  is  more  touching  than  suffer- 
ing goodness.  The  two  young  girls  cast 
down  their  eyes,  blushed  simultaneously, 
and  exchanged  anxious  glances,  as  if  to 
point  out  to  each  other  the  slumbering 
missionary. 

"He  sleeps,  sister,"  said  Rose  in  a  low 
voice. 

"So  much  the  better,"  replied  Blanche, 
also*  in  a  whisper,  making  a  sign  of  cau- 
tion; "we  shall  now  be  able  to  observe 
him  well." 

"  Yes,  for  we  durst  not  do  so,  in  coming 
from  the  sea  hither." 

"  Look !  what  a  sweet  countenance !" 

"  He  is  just  the  same  as  we  saw  him  in 
our  dreams. " 

"When  he  promised  he  would  protect  us." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  418 

"And  he  has  not  failed  us." 

"But  here,  at  least,  he  is  visible." 

"  Not  as  it  was  in  the  prison  at  Leipsic, 
during  that  dark  night." 

"And  so — he  has  again  rescued  us." 

"  Without  him,  we  should  have  perished 
this  morning." 

"And  yet,  sister,  it  seems  to  me,  that 
in  our  dreams  his  countenance  shone  with 
light." 

"Yes,  you  know,  it  dazzled  us  to  look 
at  him." 

"And  then  he  had  not  so  sad  a  mien." 

"  That  was  because  he  came  then  from 
heaven;  now  he  is  upon  earth." 

"But,  sister,  had  he  then  that  bright 
red  scar  round  his  forehead?" 

"  Oh,  no !  we  should  have  certainly  per- 
ceived it." 

"  And  these  other  marks  on  his  hands?" 

"  If  he  has  been  wounded,  how  can  he 
be  an  archangel?" 

"  Why  not,  sister?  If  he  received  those 
wounds  in  preventing  evil,  or  in  helping 
the  unfortunate,  who,  like  us,  were  about 
to  perish?" 

"  You  are  right.  If  he  did  not  run  any 
danger  for  those  he  protects,  it  would  be 
less  noble  " 

"  What  a  pity  that  he  does  not  open  his 
eyes!" 


414  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Their  expression  is  so  good,  so  tender  !H 

"  Why  did  he  not  speak  of  our  mother, 
by  the  way?" 

"  We  were  not  alone  with  him ;  he  did 
not  like  to  do  so." 

"  But  now  we  are  alone." 

"  If  we  were  to  pray  to  him  to  speak  to 
us?" 

The  orphans  looked  doubtingly  at  each 
other,  with  charming  simplicity ;  a  bright 
glow  suffused  their  cheeks,  and  their  young 
bosoms  heaved  gently  beneath  their  black 
dresses. 

"  You  are  right.  Let  us  kneel  down  to 
him." 

"  Oh,  sister !  our  hearts  beat  so !"  said 
Blanche,  believing,  rightly,  that  Rose  felt 
exactly  as  she  did.  "  And  yet  it  seems  to 
do  us  good.  It  is  as  if  some  happiness 
were  going  to  befall  us." 

The  sisters,  having  approached  the  arm- 
chair on  tip-toe,  knelt  down  with  clasped 
hands,  one  to  the  right,  the  other  to  the 
left  of  the  young  priest.  It  was  a  charm- 
ing picture.  Turning  their  lovely  faces 
toward  him,  they  said  in  a  low  whisper, 
with  a  soft,  sweet  voice,  well  suited  to 
their  youthful  appearance:  "Gabriel I 
speak  to  us  of  our  mother!" 

On  this  appeal,  the  missionary  gave  a 


THE  WANDLKING  JEW.  415 

slight  start,  half -opened  his  eyes,  and, 
still  in  a  state  of  semi -consciousness,  be- 
tween sleep  and  waking,  beheld  those  two 
beauteous  faces  turned  toward  him,  and 
heard  two  gentle  voices  repeat  his  name. 

"Who  calls  me?"  said  he,  rousing  him- 
self, and  raising  his  head. 

"  It  is  Blanche  and  Rose." 

It  was  now  Gabriel's  turn  to  blush,  for 
he  recognized  the  young  girls  he  had 
saved.  "  Rise,  my  sisters !"  said  he  to 
them;  " you  should  kneel  only  unto  God." 

The  orphans  obeyed  and  were  soon  be- 
side him,  holding  each  other  by  the  hand. 
"  You  know  my  name,  it  seems, "  said  the 
missionary,  'with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  we  have  not  forgotten  it !" 

"Who  told  it  you?" 

"Yourself." 

"I?" 

"  Yes — when  you  came  from  our  mother." 

"I,  my  sisters?"  said  the  missionary, 
unable  to  comprehend  the  words  of  the 
orphans.  "You  are  mistaken.  I  saw 
you  to-day  for  the  first  time." 

"  But  in  our  dreams?" 

"  Yes — do  you  not  remember? — in  our 
dreams." 

"In  Germany — three  months  ago,  for 
the  first  time.  Look  at  us  well." 


416  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

Gabriel  could  not  help  smiling  at  the 
simplicity  of  Rose  and  Blanche,  who  ex- 
pected him  to  remember  a  dream  of  theirs; 
growing  more  and  more  perplexed,  he  re- 
peated :  "  In  your  dreams?" 

"Certainly;  when  you  gave  us  such 
good  advice." 

"  And  when  we  were  so  sorrowful  in 
prison,  your  words,  which  we  remem- 
bered, consoled  us,  and  gave  us  .courage." 

"  Was  it  not  you  who  delivered  us  from 
the  prison  at  Leipsic,  in  that  dark  night, 
when  we  were  not  able  to  see  you?" 

"I!" 

"  What  other  but  you  would  thus  have 
come  to  our  help,  and  to  that1  of  our  old 
friend?" 

"  We  told  him  that  you  would  love  him 
because  he  loved  us,  although  he  would 
not  believe  in  angels." 

"  And  this  morning,  during  the  tempest, 
we  had  hardly  any  fear." 

"  Because  we  expected  you." 

"  This  morning  —  yes,  my  sisters  —  it 
pleased  Heaven  to  send  me  to  your  assist- 
ance. I  was  coming  from  America,  but 
I  have  never  been  in  Leipsic.  I  could 
not,  therefore,  have  let  you  out  of  prison. 
Tell  me,  my  sisters,"  added  he,  with  a  be- 
nevolent smile, "  for  whom  do  you  take  me?" 


i-HE  WANDERING  JEW.  417 


"  For  a  good  angel,  whom  we  have  seen 
already  in  dreams,  sent  by  our  mother 
from  heaven  to  protect  us." 

"  My  dear  sisters,  I  am  only  a  poor 
priest.  It  is  by  mere  chance,  no  doubt, 
that  I  bear  some  resemblance  to  the  angel 
you  have  seen  in  your  dreams,  and  whom 
you  could  not  see  in  any  other  manner — 
for  angels  are  not  visible  to  mortal  eye." 

"Angels  are  not  visible?"  said  the  or- 
phans, looking  sorrowfully  at  each  other. 

"No  matter,  my  dear  sisters,"  said 
Gabriel,  taking  them  affectionately  by 
the  hand;  "dreams,  like  everything  else, 
come  from  above.  Since  the  remem- 
brance of  your  mother  was  mixed  up 
with  this  dream,  it  is  twice  blessed." 

At  this  moment  a  door  opened,  and 
Dagobert  made  his  appearance.  Up  to 
this  time,  the  orphans,  in  their  innocent 
ambition  to  be  protected  by  an  archangel, 
had  quite  forgotten  the  circumstance  that 
Dagobert's  wife  had  adopted  a  forsaken 
child,  who  was  called .  Gabriel,  and  who 
was  now  a  priest  and  missionary. 

The  soldier,  though  obstinate  in  main- 
taining that  his  hurt  was  only  a  blank 
wound  (to  use  a  term  of  General  Simon's), 
had  allowed  it  to  be  carefully  dressed  by 
the  surgeon  of  the  village,  and  now  wore 


418  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

a  black  bandage,  which  concealed  one  half 
of  his  forehead,  and  added  to  the  natural 
grimness  of  his  features.  On  entering  the 
room  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see 
a  stranger  holding  the  hands  of  Rose  and 
Blanche  familiarly  in  his  own.  This  sur- 
prise was  natural,  for  Dagobert  did  not 
know  that  the  missionary  had  saved  the 
lives  of  the  orphans,  and  had  attempted 
to  save  his  also. 

In  the  midst  of  the  storm,  tossed  about 
by  the  waves,  and  vainly  striving  to  cling 
to  the  rocks,  the  soldier  had  only  seen 
Gabriel  very  imperfectly,  at  the  moment 
when,  having  snatched  the  sisters  from 
certain  death,  the  young  priest  had  fruit- 
lessly endeavored  to  come  to  his  aid.  And 
when,  after  the  shipwreck,  Dagobert  had 
found  the  orphans  in  safety  beneath  the 
rock  of  the  Manor  House,  he  fell,  as  we 
have  already  stated,  into  a  swoon,  caused 
by  fatigue,  emotion,  and  the  effects  of  his 
wound — so  that  he  had  again  no  opportu- 
nity of  observing  the  features  of  the  mis- 
sionary. 

The  veteran  began  to  frown  from  be- 
neath his  black  bandage  and  thick,  gray 
brows,  at  beholding  a  stranger  so  familiar 
with  Rose  and  Blanche ;  but  the  sisters  ran 
to  throw  themselves  into  his  arms,  and  to 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  419 

cover  him  with  filial  caresses.  His  anger 
was  soon  dissipated  by  these  marks  of 
affection,  though  he  continued,  from  time 
to  time,  to  cast  a  suspicious  glance  at  the 
missionary,  who  had  risen  from  his  seat, 
but  whose  countenance  he  could  not  well 
distinguish. 

"How  is  your  wound,"  asked  Rose, 
anxiously.  "  They  -  told  us  it  was  not 
dangerous." 

"Does  it  still  pain?"  added  Blanche. 

"No,  children;  the  surgeon  of  the  vil- 
lage would  bandage  me  up  in  this  man- 
ner. If  my  head  was  carbonadoed  with 
saber  cuts,  I  could  not  have  more  wrap- 
pings. They  will  take  me  for  an  old 
milksop;  it  is  only  a  blank  wound,  and 
I  have  a  good  mind  to — "  And  there- 
with the  soldier  raised  one  of  his  hands 
to  the  bajidage. 

"  Will  you  leave  that  alone?"  cried  Rose, 
catching  his  arm.  "  How  can  you  be  so 
unreasonable — at  your  age?" 

"Well,  well!  don't  scold!  I  will  do 
what  you  wish,  and  keep  it  on."  Then, 
drawing  the  sisters  to  one  end  of  the 
room,  he  said  to  them  in  a  low  voice, 
while  he  looked  at  the  young  priest  from 
the  corner  of  his  eye :  "  Who  is  that  gen- 
tleman who  was  holding  your  hands  when 


420  THE   WANDKRING  JEW. 

I  came  in?  He  has  very  much  the  look 
of  a  curate.  You  see,  my  children,  you 
must  be  on  your  guard ;  because — " 

"He?"  cried  both  sisters  at  once,  turn- 
ing toward  Gabriel.  "  Without  him,  we 
should  not  now  be  here  to  kiss  you." 

"What's  that?"  cried  the  soldier,  sud- 
denly drawing  up  his  tall  figure,  and  gaz- 
ing full  at  the  missionary. 

"It  is  our  guardian  angel,"  resumed 
Blanche. 

"Without  him,"  said  Rose,  "we  must 
have  perished  this  morning  in  the  ship- 
wreck." 

"  Ah !  it  is  he,  who — "  Dagobert  could 
say  no  more.  With  swelling  heart,  and 
tears  in  his  eyes,  he  ran  to  the  mission- 
ary, offered  ham  both  his  hands,  and  ex- 
claimed, in  a  tone  of  gratitude  impossible 
to  describe :  "  Sir,  I  owe  you  tha  lives  of 
these  two  children.  I  feel  what  a  debt 
that  service  lays  upon  me.  I  will  not 
say  more  —  because  it  includes  every- 
thing!" 

Then,  as  if  struck  with  a  sudden  recol- 
lection, he  cried :  "  Stop !  when  I  was  try- 
ing to  cling  to  a  rock,  so  as  not  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  waves;  was  it  not 
you  that  held  out  your  hand  to  me?  Yes 
— that  light  hair — that  youthful  counte- 


THE  WANDERING  JBW.  421 

nance — yes — it  was  certainly  you — now  1 
am  sure  of  it!" 

"  Unhappily,  sir,  my  strength  failed  me, 
and  I  had  the  anguish  to  see  you  fall  back 
into  the  sea." 

"  I  can  say  nothing  more  in  the  way  of 
thanks  than  what  I  have  already  said," 
answered  Dagobert,  with  touching  sim- 
plicity ;  "  in  preserving  these  children  you 
have  done  more  for  me  than  if  you  had 
saved  my  own  life.  But  what  heart  and 
courage!"  added  the  soldier,  with  admira- 
tion ;  "  and  so  young,  with  such  a  girlish 
look !" 

"And  so,"  cried  Blanche,  joyfully,  "our 
Gabriel  came  to  your  aid  also?" 

"Gabriel!"  said  Dagobert,  interrupting 
Blanche,  and  addressing  himself  to  the 
priest.  "  Is  your  name  Gabriel?" 

""Yes,  sir." 

"Gabriel!"  repeated  the  soldier,  more 
and  more  surprised.  "And  a  priest!" 
added  he. 

"  A  priest  of  the  foreign  missions." 

"Who — who  brought  you  up?"  asked 
the  soldier,  with  increasing  astonish- 
ment. 

"An  excellent  and  generous  woman, 
whom  I  revere  as  the  best  of  mothers; 
for  she  had  pity  on  me,  a  deserted  infant, 
and  treated  me  ever  as  her  son." 


422  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

"Frances  Baudoin — was  it  not?"  said 
the  soldier,  with  deep  emotion. 

"It  was,  sir,"  answered  Gabriel,  aston- 
ished in  his  turn.  "But  how  do  you 
know  this?" 

"The  wife  of  a  soldier,  eh?"  continued 
Dagobert. 

"Yes,  of  a  brave  soldier — who,  from  the 
most  admirable  devotion,  is  even  now  pass- 
ing his  life  in  exile — far  from  his  wife — 
far  from  his  son,  my  dear  brother — fop  I 
am  proud  to  call  him  by  that  name — " 

"My  Agricola! — my  wife!—  when  did 
you  leave  them?" 

"  What !  is  it  possible !  You  the  father 
of  Agricola? — Oh !  I  knew  not,  until  now," 
cried  Gabriel,  clasping  his  hands  together, 
"  I  knew  not  all  the  gratitude  that  I  owed 
to  Heaven ! " 

"And  my  wife!  my  child!"  resumed 
Dagobert,  in  a  trembling  voice;  "how 
are  they?  have  you  news  of  them?" 

"  The  accounts  I  received,  three  months 
ago,  were  excellent." 

"No;  it  is  too  much,"  cried  Dagobert: 
"  it  is  too  much !"  The  veteran  was  un- 
able to  proceed;  his  feelings  stifled  his 
words,  and  he  fell  back  exhausted  in  a 
chair. 

And  now  Rose  and  Blanche  recalled  to 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  428 

mind  that  portion  of  their  father's  letter 
which  related  to  the  child  named  Gabriel, 
whom  the  wife  of  Dagobert  had  adopted ; 
then  they  also  yielded  to  transports  of 
innocent  joy. 

"Our  Gabriel  is  the  same  as  yours—- 
what happiness!"  cried  Rose. 

"Yes,  my  children!  he  belongs  to  you 
as  well  as  to  me.  We  have  all  our  part 
in  him."  Then,  addressing  Gabriel,  the 
soldier  added  with  affectionate  warmth: 
"Your  hand,  my  brave  boy!  give  me 
your  hand!" 

"  Oh,  sir!  you  are  too  good  to  me." 

"Yes — that's  it — thank  me! — after  all 
thou  hast  done  for  us!" 

"  Does  my  adopted  mother  know  of  your 
return?"  asked  Gabriel,  anxious  to  escape 
from  the  praises  of  the  soldier. 

"  I  wrote  to  her  five  months  since,  but 
said  that  I  should  come  alone ;  there  was 
a  reason  for  it,  which  I  will  explain  by 
and  by.  Does  she  still  live  in  the  Rue 
Brise-Miche?  It  was  there  Agricola  was 
born." 

"She  still  lives  there." 

"In  that  case,  she  must  have  received 
my  letter.  I  wished  to  write  to  her  from  the 
prison  at  Leipsic,  but  it  was  impossible." 

"  From  prison !  Have  you  just  come  out 
of  prison?" 


434  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Yes ;  I  came  straight  from  Germany, 
by  the  Elbe  and  Hamburg,  and  I  should 
be  still  at  Leipsic,  but  for  an  event  which 
the  devil  must  have  had  a  hand  in — a 
good  sort  of  devil,  though." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Pray  explain  to 
me." 

"That  would  be  difficult,  for  I  cannot 
explain  it  to  myself.  These  little  ladies," 
he  added,  pointing  with  a  smile  to  Rose 
and  Blanche,  "pretended  to  know  more 
about  it  than  I  did,  and  were  continually 
repeating :  '  It  was  the  angel  that  came  to 
our  assistance,  Dagobert — the  good  angel 
we  told  thee  of  —  though  you  said  you 
would  rather  have  Spoilsport  to  defend 
us—'  " 

"Gabriel,  I  am  waiting  for  you,"  said 
a  stern  voice,  which  made  the  missionary 
start.  They  all  turned  round  instantly, 
while  the  dog  uttered  a  deep  growl. 

It  was  Rodin.  He  stood  in  the  door- 
way leading  to  the  corridor.  His  features 
were  calm  and  impassive,  but  he  darted  a 
rapid,  piercing  glance  at  the  soldier  and 
the  sisters. 

"Who  is  that  man?"  said  Dagobert, 
very  little  prepossessed  in  favor  of  Rodin, 
whose  countenance  he  found  singularly 
repulsive.  "What  the  mischief  does  he 
wont?" 


THE    WANDERING  JEW.  425 

"  I  must  go  with  him, "  answered  Gabriel, 
in  a  tone  of  sorrowful  restraint.  Then  turn- 
ing to  Rodin,  he  added :  "  A  thousand  par- 
dons! I  shall  be  ready  in  a  moment." 

"  What !"  cried  Dagobert,  stupefied  with 
amazement,  '"going  the  very  instant  we 
have  just  met?  No,  by  my  faith!  you 
shall  not  go.  I  have  too  much  to  tell 
you  and  to  ask  in  return.  We  will  make 
the  journey  together.  It  will  be  a  real 
treat  for  me. " 

"It  is  impossible.  He  is  my  superior, 
and  I  must  obey  him." 

"  Your  superior? — why  he's  in  citizen's 
dress." 

"  He  is  not  obliged  to  wear  the  ecclesias- 
tical garb." 

"Rubbish!  since  he  is  not  in  uniform, 
and  there  is  no  provost-marshal  in  your 
troop,  send  him  to  the — " 

"Believe  me,  I  would  not  hesitate  a 
minute,  if  it  were  possible  to  remain." 

"I  was  right  in  disliking  the  phis  of 
that  man,"  muttered  Dagobert  between 
his  teeth.  Then  he  added,  with  an  air 
of  impatience  and  vexation:  "Shall  I 
tell  him  that  he  will  much  oblige  us  by 
marching  off  by  himself?" 

"I  beg  you  not  to  do  so,"  said  Gabriel; 
"it  would  bo  useless;  I  know  my  duty, 


436  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  have  no  will  but  my  superior's.  As 
soon  as  you  arrive  in  Pairs,  I  will  come 
and  see  you,  as  also  my  adopted  mother, 
and  my  dear  brother,  Agricola." 

"Well — if  it  must  be.  I  have  been  a 
soldier,  and  know  what  subordination 
is,"  said  Dagobert,  much  annoyed.  "One 
must  put  a  good  face  on  bad  fortune.  So, 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  in  the  Rue  Brise- 
Miche,  my  boy;  for  they  tell  me  I  can  be 
in  Paris  by  to-morrow  evening,  and  we 
set  out  almost  immediately.  But  I  say — 
there  seems  to  be  a  strict  discipline  with 
you  fellows !" 

"Yes,  it  is  strict  and  severe,"  answered 
Gabriel,  with  a  shudder,  and  a  stifled  sigh. 

"  Come,  shake  hands — and  let's  say  fare- 
well for  the  present.  After  all,  twenty- 
four  hours  will  soon  pass  away." 

"Adieu!  adieu!"  replied  the  mission- 
ary, much  moved,  while  he  returned  the 
friendly  pressure  of  the  veteran's  hand. 

"Adieu,  Gabriel!"  added  the  orphans, 
sighing  also,  and  with  tears  in  their  eyes. 

"  Adieu,  my  sisters !"  said  Gabriel — and 
he  left  the  room  with  Rodin,  who  had  not 
lost  a  word  or  an  incident  of  this  scene. 

Two  hours  after,  Dagobert  and  the 
orphans  had  quitted  the  Castle  for  Paris, 
not  knowing  that  Djalma  was  left  at  Car- 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  487 

doville,  being  still  too  much  injured  to  pro- 
ceed on  his  journey.  The  half-caste,  Far- 
inghea,  remained  with  the  young  prince, 
not  wishing,  he  said,  to  desert  a  fellow- 
countryman. 

We  now  conduct  the  reader  to  the  Rue 
Brise-Miche,  the  residence  of  Dagobert's 
wife. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
DAGOBERT'S  WIFE. 

THE  following  scenes  occur  in  Paris, 
on  the  morrow  of  the  day  when  the  ship- 
wrecked travelers  were  received  in  Cardo- 
ville  House. 

Nothing  can  be  more  gloomy  than  the 
aspect  of  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  one  end  of 
which  leads  into  the  Rue  Saint- Mery,  and 
the  other  into  the  little  square  of  the  Clois- 
ter, near  the  church.  At  this  end,  the 
street,  or  rather  alley — for  it  is  not  more 
than  eight  feet  wide — is  shut  in  between 
immense  black,  muddy,  dilapidated  walls, 
the  excessive  height  of  which  excludes  both 
air  and  light;  hardly,  during  the  longest 
days  of  the  year,  is  the  sun  able  to  throw 
into  it  a  few  straggling  beams;  while, 


438  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

during  the  cold  damps  of  winter,  a  chill- 
ing fog,  which  seems  to  penetrate  every- 
thing, hangs  constantly  above  the  miry 
pavement  of  this  species  of  oblong  well. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing; by  the  faint,  reddish  light  of  the 
street  lamp,  hardly  visible  through  the 
haze,  two  men,  stopping  at  the  angle  of 
one  of  those  enormous  walls,  exchanged 
a  few  words  together. 

"So,"  said  one,  "you  understand  all 
about  it.  You  are  to  watch  in  the  street, 
till  you  see  them  enter  No.  5." 

"  All  right !"  answered  the  other. 

"  And  when  you  see  'em  enter,  so  as  to 
make  quite  sure  of  the  game,  go.  up  to 
Frances  Baudoin's  room — " 

"  Under  the  cloak  of  asking  where  the 
little  humpbacked  workwoman  lives  — 
the  sister  of  that  gay  girl,  the  Queen  of 
the  Bacchanals." 

"  Yes — and  you  must  try  and  find  out 
her  address  also — from  her  humpbacked 
sister,  if  possible — for  it  is  very  important. 
Women  of  her  feather  change  their  nests 
like  birds,  and  we  have  lost  track  of  her." 

"  Make  yourself  easy ;  I  will  do  my  best 
with  Humpy,  to  learn  where  her  sister 
hangs  out." 

"And  to  give  you  steam,  I'll  wait  for 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  429 

you  at  the  tavern   opposite   the  Cloister 
and  we'll  have  a  go  of  hot  wine  on  your 
return." 

"I'll  not  refuse,  for  the  night  is  deuced- 
lycold." 

"Don't  mention  it!  This  morning  the 
water  friz  on  my  sprinkling  brush,  and  I 
turned  as  stiff  as  a  mummy  in  my  chair 
at  the  church  door.  Ah,  my  boy !  a  dis- 
tributor of  holy  water  is  not  always  upon 
roses !" 

"  Luckily,  you  have  the  pickings — " 

"  Well,''  well — good  luck  to  you !  Don't 
forget  the  Fiver,  the  little  passage  next  to 
the  dyer's  shop." 

"  Yes,  yes — all  right !"  and  the  two  men 
separated. 

One  proceeded  to  the  Cloister  Square; 
the  other  toward  the  further  end  of  the 
street,  where  it  led  into  the  Kue  Saint- 
Mery.  This  latter  soon  found  the  number 
of  the  house  he  sought  —  a  tall,  narrow 
building,  having,  like  all  the  other  houses 
in  the  street,  a  poor  and  wretched  appear- 
ance. When  he  saw  he  was  right,  the 
man  commenced  walking  backward  and 
forward  in  front  of  the  door  of  No.  5. 

If  the  exterior  of  these  buildings  was 
uninviting,  the  gloom  and  squalor  of  the 
interior  cannot  be  described.  The  house 


430  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

No.  5  was,  in  a  special  degree,  dirty 
•and  dilapidated.  The  water,  which  oozed 
from  the  wall,  trickled  down  the  dark  and 
filthy  staircase.  On  the  second  floor,  a 
wisp  of  straw  had  been  laid  on  the  nar- 
row landing-place,  for  wiping  the  feet  on ; 
but  this  straw  being  now  quite  rotten  only 
served  to  augment  the  sickening  odor, 
which  arose  from  want  of  air,  from  damp, 
and  from  the  putrid  exhalations  of  the 
drains.  The  few  openings,  cut  at  rare 
intervals  in  the  walls  of  the  staircase, 
could  hardly  admit  more  than  some  faint 
rays  of  glimmering  light. 

In  this  quarter,  one  of  the  most  popu- 
lous in  Paris,  such  houses  as  these,  poor, 
cheerless,  and  unhealthy,  are  generally  in- 
habited by  the  working  classes.  The  house 
in  question  was  of  the  number.  A  dyer 
occupied  the  ground  floor;  the  deleterious 
vapors  arising  from  his  vats  added  to  the 
stench  of  the  whole  building.  On  the  up- 
per stories,  several  artisans  lodged  with 
their  families,  or  carried  on  their  differ- 
ent trades.  Up  four  flights  of  stairs  was 
the  lodging  of  Frances  Baudoin,  wife  of 
Dagobert.  It  consisted  of  one  room,  with 
a  closet  adjoining,  and  was  now  lighted 
by  a  single  candle.  Agricola  occupied  a 
garret  in  the  roof- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  481 

Old  grayish  paper,  broken  here  and 
there  by  the  cracks,  covered  the  crazy 
wall,  against  which  rested  the  bed ;  scanty 
curtains,  running  upon  an  iron  rod,  con- 
cealed the  windows;  the  brick  floor,  not 
polished,  but  often  washed,  had  preserved 
its  natural  color.  At  one  end  of  this  room 
was  a  round  iron  stove,  with  a  large  pot 
for  culinary  purposes.  On  the  wooden 
table,  painted  yellow,  marbled  with  brown, 
stood  a  miniature  house  made  of  iron — a 
masterpiece  of  patience  and  skill,  the  work 
of  Agricola  Baudoin,  Dagobert's  son. 

A  plaster  crucifix,  hung  up  against  the 
wall,  surrounded  by  several  branches  of 
consecrated  box-tree,  and  various  images 
of  saints,  very  coarsely  colored,  bore  wit- 
ness to  the  habits  of  the  soldier's  wife. 
Between  the  windows  stood  one  of  those 
old  walnut-wood  presses,  curiously  fash- 
ioned, and  almost  black  with  time;  an 
old  armchair,  covered  with  green  cotton 
velvet  (Agricola' s  first  present  to  his 
mother),  a  few  rush  -  bottomed  chairs, 
and  a  work-table  on  which  lay  several 
bags  of  coarse,  brown  cloth,  completed 
the  furniture  of  this  room,  badly  secured 
by  a  worm-eaten  door.  The  adjoining 
closet  contained  a  few  kitchen  and  house- 
hold utensils. 


483  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Mean  and  poor  as  this  interior  may  per- 
haps appear,  it  would  not  seem  so  to  the 
jgreater  number  of  artisans;  for  the  bed 
was  supplied  with  two  mattresses,  clean 
sheets,  and  a  warm  counterpane;  the  "old- 
fashioned  press  contained  linen ;  and,  more- 
over, Dagobert's  wife  occupied  all  to  herself 
a  room  as  large  as  those  in  which  numer- 
ous families,  belonging  to  honest  and  la- 
borious workmen,  often  live  and  sleep 
huddled  together — only  too  happy  if  the 
boys  and  girls  can  have  separate  beds, 
or  if  the  sheets  and  blankets  are  not 
pledged  at  the  pawnbroker's. 

Frances  Baudoin,  seated  beside  the  small 
stove,  which,  in  the  cold  and  damp  weather, 
yielded  but  little  warmth,  was  busied  in 
.preparing  her  son  Agricola's  evening 
.meal. 

Dagobert's  wife  was  about  fifty  years  of 
age;  she  wore  a  close  jacket  of  blue  cot- 
ton, with  white  flowers  on  it,  and  a  stuff 
petticoat;  a  white  handkerchief  was  tied 
jround  her  head,  and  fastened  under  the 
chin.  Her  countenance  was  pale  and 
meager,  the  features  regular,  and  ex- 
pressive of  resignation  and  great  kind- 
ness. It  would  have  been  difficult  to  find 
a  better,  a  more  courageous  mother.  With 
no  resource  but  her  labor,  she  had  sue- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  433 

ceeded,  by  unwearied  energy,  in  bringing 
up  not  only  her  own  sou  Agricola,  but  also 
Gabriel,  the  poor,  deserted  child,  of  whom, 
with  admirable  devotion,  she  had  ventured 
to  take  charge. 

In  her  youth,  she  had,  as  it  were,  an- 
ticipated the  strength  of  later  life,  by 
twelve  years  of  incessant  toil,  rendered 
lucrative  by  the  most  violent  exertions, 
and  accompanied  by  such  privations  as 
made  it  almost  suicidal.  Then  (for  it 
was  a  time  of  splendid  wages,  compared 
to  the  present),  by  sleepless  nights  and 
constant  labor,  she  contrived  to  earn 
about  two  shillings  (fifty  sous)  a  day, 
and  with  this  she  managed  to  educate 
her  son  and  her  adopted  child. 

At  the  end  of  these  twelve  years,  her 
health  was  ruined  and  her  strength  near- 
ly exhausted ;  but,  at  all  events,  her  boys 
had  wanted  for  nothing,  and  had  received 
such  an  education  as  children  of  the  people 
can  obtain.  About  this  time,  M.  Frangois 
Hardy  took  Agricola  as  an  apprentice, 
and  Gabriel  prepared  to  enter  the  priest's 
seminary,  under  the  active  patronage  of 
M.  Rodin,  whose  communications  with 
the  confessor  of  Frances  Baudoin  had 
become  very  frequent  about  the  year 
1820. 
VOL.  1—19 


434  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

This  woman  (whose  piety  had  always 
been  excessive)  was  one  of  those  simple 
natures  endowed  with  extreme  goodness, 
whose  self-denial  approaches  to  heroism, 
and  who  devote  themselves  in  obscurity 
to  a  life  of  martyrdom — pure  and  heaven- 
ly minds,  in  whom  the  instincts  of  the 
heart  supply  the  place  of  the  intellect! 

The  only  defect,  or  rather  the  necessary 
consequence  of  this  extreme  simplicity  of 
character,  was  the  invincible  determina- 
tion she  displayed  in  yielding  to  the  com- 
mands of  her  confessor,  to  whose  influence 
she  had  now  for  many  years  been  accus- 
tomed to  submit. 

She  regarded  this  influence  as  most 
venerable  and  sacred;  no  mortal  power, 
no  human  consideration,  could  have  pre- 
vented her  from  obeying  it.  Did  any 
dispute  arise  on  the  subject,  nothing  could 
move  her  on  this  point;  she  opposed  to 
every  argument  a  resistance  entirely  free 
from  passion — mild  as  her  disposition,  calm 
as  her  conscience — but,  like  the  latter,  not 
to  be  shaken.  In  a  word,  Fjances  Bau- 
doin  was  one  of  those  pure,  but  unin- 
structed  and  credulous  beings,  who  may 
sometimes,  in  skillful  and  dangerous 
hands,  become,  without  knowing  it,  the 
instruments  of  much  eviL 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  485 

For  some  time  past,  the  bad  state  of 
her  health,  and  particularly  the  increas- 
ing weakness  of  her  sight,  had  condemned 
her  to  a  forced  repose;  unable  to  work 
more  than  two  or  three  hours  a  day,  she 
consumed  the  rest  of  her  time  at  church. 

Frances  rose  from  her  seat,  pushed  the 
coarse  bags  at  which  she  had  been  work- 
ing to  the  further  end  of  the  table,  and 
proceeded  to  lay  the  cloth  for  her  son's 
supper,  with  maternal  care  and  solicitude. 
She  took  from  the  press  a  small  leathern 
bag,  containing  an  old  silver  cup,  very 
much  battered,  and  a  fork  and  spoon,  so 
worn  and  thin,  that  the  latter  cut  like  a 
knife.  These,  her  only  plate  (the  wed- 
ding present  of  Dagobert)  she  rubbed  and 
polished  as  well  as  she  was  able,  and  laid 
by  the  side  of  her  son's  plate.  They  were 
the  most  precious  of  her  possessions,  not 
so  much  for  what  little  intrinsic  value 
might  attach  to  them,  as  for  the  associa- 
tions they  recalled,  and  she  had  often  shed 
bitter  tears,  when,  under  the  pressure  of 
illness  or  want  of  employment,  she  had 
been  compelled  to  carry  these  sacred  treas- 
ures to  the  pawnbroker's. 

Frances  next  took,  from  the  lower  shelf 
of  the  press,  a  bottle  of  water,  and  one  of 
wine  about  three-quartets  full,  which  she 


436  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

also  placed  near  her  son's  plate;  she  then 
returned  to  the  stove,  to  watch  the  cook- 
ing of  the  supper. 

Though  Agricola  was  not  much  later 
than  usual,  the  countenance  of  his  mother 
expressed  both  uneasiness  and  grief;  one 
might  have  seen,  by  the  redness  of  her 
eyes,  that  she  had  been  weeping  a  good 
deal.  After  long  and  painful  uncertainty, 
the  poor  woman  had  just  arrived  at  the 
conviction  that  her  eye-sight,  which  had 
been  growing  weaker  and  weaker,  would 
soon  be  so  much  impaired  as  to  prevent 
her  working  even  the  two  or  three  hours 
a  day  which  had  lately  been  the  extent  of 
her  labors. 

Originally,  an  excellent  hand  at  the 
needle,  she  had  been  obliged,  as  her  eye- 
sight gradually  failed  her,  to  abandon  the 
finer  for  the  coarser  sorts  of  work,  and  her 
earnings  had  necessarily  diminished  in  pro- 
portion ;  she  had  at  length  been  reduced  to 
the  necessity  of  making  those  coarse  bags 
for  the  army  which  took  about  four  yards 
of  sewing,  and  were  paid  at  the  rate  of 
two  sous  each,  she  having  to  find  her  own 
thread.  This  work  being  very  hard,  she 
could  at  most  complete  three  such  bags  in 
a  day,  and  her  gains  thus  amounted  to 
threepence  (six  sous)  I 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  437 

It  makes  one  shudder  to  think  of  the 
great  number  of  unhappy  females,  whose 
strength  has  been  so  much  exhausted  by 
privations,  old  age  or  sickness  that  all 
the  labor  of  which  they  are  capable  hard- 
ly suffices  to  bring  them  in  daily  this 
miserable  pittance.  Thus  do  their  gains 
diminish  in  exact  proportion  to  the  in- 
creasing want  which  age  and  infirmity 
must  occasion. 

Happily,  Frances  had  an  efficient  sup- 
port in  her  son.  A  first-rate  workman, 
profiting  by  the  just  scale  of  wages 
adopted  by  M.  Hardy,  his  labor  brought 
him  from  four  to  five  shillings  a  day — 
more  than  double  what  was  gained  by 
workmen  of  many  other  establishments. 
Admitting  therefore  that  his  mother  were 
to  gain  nothing,  he  could  easily  maintain 
both  her  and  himself. 

But -the  poor  woman,  so  wonderfully 
economical  that  she  denied  herself  even 
some  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  had  of 
late  become  ruinously  liberal  on  the  score 
of  the  sacristy,  since  she  had  adopted  the 
habit  of  visiting  daily  the  parish  church. 
Scarcely  a  day  passed  but  she  had  masses 
sung,  or  tapers  burned,  either  for  Dago- 
bert,  from  whom  she  had  been  so  long 
separated,  or  for  the  salvation  of  her  son 


4#R  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Agricola,  whom  she  considered  on  the 
high  road  to  perdition.  Agricola  had  so 
excellent  a  heart,  so  loved  and  revered  his 
mother,  and  considered  her  actions  in  this 
respect  inspired  by  so  touching  a  senti- 
ment, that  he  never  complained  when  he 
saw  a  great  part  of  his  week's  wages 
(which  he  paid  regularly  over  to  his 
mother  every  Saturday)  disappear  in  pious 
forms. 

Yet  now  and  then  he  ventured  to  re- 
mark to  Frances,  with  as  much  respect  as 
tenderness,  that  it  pained  him  to  see  her 
enduring  privations  injurious  at  her  age, 
because  she  preferred  incurring  these  de- 
votional expenses.  But  what  answer 
could  he  make  to  this  excellent  mother, 
when  she  replied  with  tears:  "My  child, 
'tis  for  the  salvation  of  your  father,  and 
yours  too." 

To  dispute  the  efficacy  of  masses  would 
have  been  venturing  on  a  subject  which 
Agricola,  through  respect  for  his  mother's 
religious  faith,  never  discussed.  He  con- 
tented himself,  therefore,  at  seeing  her 
dispense  with  comforts  she  might  have 
enjoyed. 

A  discreet  tap  was  heard  at  the  door. 
"Come  in,"  said  Frances.  The  person 
came  in. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  439 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE    SISTER    OF    THE   BACCHANAL   QUEEN. 

THE  person  who  now  entered  was  a 
girl  of  about  eighteen,  short,  and  very 
much  deformed.  Though  not  exactly  a 
hunchback,  her  spine  was  curved;  her 
breast  was  sunken,  and  her  head  deeply 
set  in  the  shoulders.  Her  face  was  regu- 
lar, but  long,  thin,  very  pale,  and  pitted 
with  the  small-pox;  yet  it  expressed  great 
sweetness  and  melancholy.  Her  blue  eyes 
beamed  with  kindness  and  intelligence.  By 
a  strange  freak  of  nature,  the  handsomest 
woman  would  have  been  proud  of  the 
magnificent  hair  twisted  in  a  coarse  net 
at  the  back  of  her  head.  She  held  an  old 
basket  in  her  hand.  Though  miserably 
clad,  the  care  and  neatness  of  her  dress 
revealed  a  powerful  struggle  with  her 
poverty.  Notwithstanding  the  cold,  she 
wore  a  scanty  frock  made  of  print  of  an 
indefinable  color,  spotted  with  white;  but 
it  had  been  so  often  washed  that  its  primi- 
tive design  and  color  had  long  since  dis- 
'appeared.  In  her  resigned,  yet  suffering 
face,  might  be  read  a  long  familiarity  with 
every  form  of  suffering,  every  description 


440  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

of  taunting.  From  her  birth,  ridicule  had 
ever  pursued  her.  We  have  said  tfyat  she 
was  very  deformed,  and  she  was  vulgarly 
called  "Mother  Bunch."  Indeed  it  was 
so  usual  to  give  her  this  grotesque  name, 
which  every  moment  reminded  her  of  her 
infirmity,  that  Frances  and  Agricola, 
though  they  felt  as  much  compassion  as 
other  people  showed  contempt  for  her, 
never  called  her,  however,  by  any  other 
name. 

Mother  Bunch,  as  we  shall  therefore 
call  her  in  future,  was  born  in  the  house 
in  which  Dagobert's  wife  had  resided  for 
more  than  twenty  years;  and  she  had,  as 
it  were,  been  brought  up  with  Agricola 
and  Gabriel. 

There  are  wretches  fatally  doomed  to 
misery.  Mother  Bunch  had  a  very  pretty 
sister,  on  whom  Perrine  Soliveau,  their 
common  mother,  the  widow  of  a  ruined 
tradesman,  had  concentrated  all  her  affec- 
tion, while  she  treated  her  deformed  child 
with  contempt  and  unkindness.  The  lat. 
ter  would  often  come,  weeping,  to  Frances, 
on  this  account,  who  tried  to  console  her, 
and  in  the  long  evenings  amused  her  by 
teaching  her  to  read  and  sew.  Accus- 
tomed to  pity  her  by  their  mother's  ex- 
ample, instead  of  imitating  other  children. 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  441 

who  always  taunted  and  sometimes  even 
beat  her,-  Agricola  and  Gabriel  liked  her, 
and  used  to  protect  and  defend  her. 

She  was  about  fifteen,  and  her  sister 
Cephyse  was  about  seventeen,  when  their 
mother  died,  leaving  them  both  in  utter 
poverty.  Cephyse  was  intelligent,  active, 
clever,  but  different  to  her  sister;  she  had 
the  lively,  alert,  hoydenish  character 
which  requires  air,  exercise  and  pleasures 
— a  good  girl  enough,  but  foolishly  spoiled 
by  her  mother.  Cephyse,  listening  at 
first  to  Frances's  good  advice,  resigned 
herself  to  her  lot ;  and,  having  learned  to 
sew,  worked  like  her  sister,  for  about  a 
year.  But,  unable  to  endure  any  longer 
the  bitter  privations  her  insignificant  earn- 
ings, notwithstanding  her  incessant  toil, 
exposed  her  to  —  privations  which  often 
bordered  on  starvation — Cephyse,  young, 
pretty,  of  warm  temperament,  and  sur- 
rounded by  brilliant  offers  and  seductions 
—brilliant,  indeed,  for  her,  since  they 
offered  food  to  satisfy  her  hunger,  shelter 
from  the  cold,  and  decent  raiment,  with- 
out being  obliged  to  work  fifteen  hours  a 
day  in  an  obscure  and  unwholesome  hovel 
— Cephyse  listened  to  the  vows  of  a  young 
lawyer's  clerk,  who  forsook  her  soon  after. 
She  formed  a  connection  with  another 


442  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

clerk,  whom  she  (instructed  by  the  ex- 
amples set  her)  forsook  in  turn  for  a  bag- 
man, whom  she  afterward  <3ast  off  for 
other  favorites.  In  a  word,  what  with 
changing  and  being  forsaken,  Cephyse  in 
the  course  of  one  or  two  years  was  the 
idol  of  a  set  of  grisettes,  students  and 
clerks ;  and  acquired  such  a  reputation  at 
the  balls  on  the  Hampstead  Heaths  ol 
Paris,  by  her  decision  of  character,  orig 
inal  turn  of  mind,  and  unwearied  ardor  in 
all  kinds  of  pleasures,  and  especially  by 
her  wild  noisy  gayety,  that  she  wat 
termed  the  Bacchanal  Queen,  and  proved1 
herself  in  every  way  worthy  of  this  be- 
wildering royalty. 

From  that  time  poor  Mother  Bunch  only 
heard  of  her  sister  at  rare  intervals.  She 
still  mourned  for  her,  and  continued  tc 
toil  hard  to  gain  her  three-and-six  a  week 
The  unfortunate  girl,  having  been  taught 
sewing  by  Frances,  made  coarse  shirts  foi 
the  common  people  and  the  army.  For 
these  she  received  half-a-crown  a  dozen. 
They  had  to  be  hemmed,  stitched,  provided 
with  collars  and  wristbands,  buttons,  and 
button-holes:  and  at  the  most,  when  at 
work  twelve  and  fifteen  hours  a  day,  she 
rarely  succeeded  in  turning  out  more  than 
fourteen  or  sixteen  shirts  a  week — an  ex- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  443 

cessive  amount  of  toil  that  brought  her 
in  about  three  shillings  and  fourpence  a 
week.  And  the  case  of  this  poor  girl  was 
neither  accidental  nor  uncommon.  And 
this,  because  the  remuneration  given  for 
women's  work  is  an  example  of  revolting 
injustice  and  savage  barbarism.  They 
are  paid  not  half  as  much  as  men  who  are 
employed  at  the  needle:  such  as  tailors 
and  makers  of  gloves,  or  waistcoats,  etc. 
— no  doubt  because  women  can  work  as 
well  as  men — because  they  are  more  weak 
and  delicate — and  because  their  need  may 
be  twofold  as  great  when  they  become 
mothers. 

Well,  Mother  Bunch  fagged  on,  with 
three-and-four  a  week.  That  is  to  say, 
toiling  hard  for  twelve  or  fifteen  hours 
every  day,  she  succeeded  in  keeping  her- 
self alive,  in  spite  of  exposure  to  hunger, 
cold,  and  poverty — so  numerous  were  her 
privations.  Privations?  No!  The  word 
privation  expresses  but  weakly  that  con- 
stant and  terrible  want  of  all  that  is  neces- 
sary to  preserve  the  existence  God  gives; 
namely,  wholesome  air  and  shelter,  suffi- 
cient and  nourishing  food,  and  warm 
clothing.  Mortification  would  be  a  better 
word  to  describe  that  total  want  of  all 
that  is  essentially  vital,  which  a  justly 


444  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

organized  state  of  society  ought— yes — 
ought  necessarily  to  bestow  on  every  ac- 
tive honest  workman  and  workwoman, 
since  civilization  has  dispossessed  them  of 
all  territorial  right,  and  left  them  no 
other  patrimony  than  their  hands. 
•  The  savage  does  not  enjoy  the  advan- 
tage of  civilization;  but  he  has,  at  least, 
the  beasts  of  the  field,  the  fowls  of  the  air, 
the  fishes  of  the  sea,  and  the  fruits  of  the 
earth,  to  feed  him,  and  his  native  woods 
for  shelter  and  for  fuel.  The  civilized 
man,  disinherited  of  these  gifts,  consider- 
ing the  rights  of  property  as  sacred,  may, 
in  return  for  his  hard  daily  labor,  which 
enriches  his  country,  demand  wages  that 
will  enable  him  to  live  in  the  enjoyment 
of  health :  nothing  more,  and  nothing  less. 
For  is  it  living,  to  drag  along  on  the  ex- 
treme edge  which  separates  life  from  the 
grave,  and  even  there  continually  struggle 
against  cold,  hunger,  and  disease?  And 
to  show  how  far  the  mortification  which 
society  imposes  thus  inexorably  on  its  mil- 
lions of  honest,  industrious  laborers  (by  its 
careless  disregard  of  all  the  questions 
which  concern  the  just  remuneration  of 
labor)  may  extend,  we  will  describe  how 
this  poor  girl  contrived  to  live  on  three 
shillings  and  sixpence  a  week. 


THE   WANDERING   JEW.  445 

Society,  perhaps,  may  then  feel  its  obli- 
gation to  so  many  unfortunate  wretches 
for  supporting,  with  resignation,  the  hor- 
rible existence  which  leaves  them  just 
sufficient  life  to  feel  the  worst  pangs  of 
humanity.  Yes:  to  live  at  such  a  price 
is  virtue!  Yes,  society  thus  organized, 
whether  it  tolerates  or  imposes  so  much 
misery,  loses  all  right  to  blame  the  poor 
wretches  who  sell  themselves,  not  through 
debauchery,  but  because  they  are  cold  and 
famishing.  This  poor  girl  spent  her 
wages  as  follows: 

Six  pounds  of  bread,  second  quality  .  0  8£ 

Four  pails  of  water 02 

Lard  or  dripping  (butter  being  out  of 

the  question) 05 

Coarse  salt       •     •    / 0  Of 

A  bushel  of  charcoal 04 

A  quart  of  dried  vegetables    ...     0  3 
Three  quarts  of  potatoes      .     .     .     .02 

Dips 0  3J 

Thread  and  needles 0  24 

2  7 

To  save  charcoal,  Mother  Bunch  pre- 
pared soup  only  two  or  three  times  a  week 
at  most,  on  a  stove  that  stood  on  the  land- 
ing of  the  fourth  story.  On  other  days 
she  ate  it  cold.  There  remained  nine  or 
ten  pence  a  week  for  clothes  and  lodging. 


446  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

By  rare  good  fortune,  her  situation  was  in 
one  respect  an  exception  to  the  lot  of  many 
others.  Agricola,  that  he  might  not  wound 
her  delicacy,  had  come  to  a  secret  arrange- 
ment with  the  housekeeper,  and  hired  a 
garret  for  her,  just  large  enough  to  hold 
a  small  bed,  a  chair,  and  a  table;  for 
which  the  seamstress  had  to  pay  five  shil- 
lings a  year.  But  Agricola,  in  fulfillment 
of  his  agreement  with  the  porter,  paid  the 
balance,  to  make  up  the  actual  rent  of  the 
garret,  which  was  twelve  and  sixpence. 
The  poor  girl  had  thus  about  eighteen- 
pence  a  month  left  for  her  other  expenses. 
But  many  workwomen,  whose  position  is 
less  fortunate  than  hers,  since  they  have 
neither  home  nor  family,  buy  a  piece  of 
bread  and  some  other  food  to  keep  them 
through  the  day;  and  at  night  patronize 
the  "two-penny  rope,"  one  with  another, 
in  a  wretched  room  containing  five  or  six 
beds,  some  of  which  are  always  engaged 
by  men,  as  male  lodgers  are  by  far  the 
most  abundant.  Yes ;  and  in  spite  of  the 
disgust  that  a  poor  and  virtuous  girl  must 
feel  at  this  arrangement,  she  must  submit 
to  it;  for  a  lodging-house  keeper  cannot 
have  separate  rooms  for  females.  To 
furnish  a  room,  however  meanly,  the  poor 
workwoman  must  possess  three  or  four 


THK    \VANDEK1NG   JEW.  447 

shillings  in  ready  money.  But  how  save 
this  sum,  out  of  weekly  earnings  of  a 
couple  of  florins,  which  are  scarcely  suffi- 
cient  to  keep  her  from  starving,  and  are 
still  less  sufficient  to  clothe  her?  No!  no! 
The  poor  wretch  must  resign  herself  to  this 
repugnant  cohabitation;  and  so,  gradu- 
ally, the  instinct  of  modesty  becomes 
weakened ;  the  natural  sentiment  of  chas- 
tity, that  saved  her  from  the  "gay  life," 
becomes  extinct;  vice  appears  to  be  the 
only  means  of  improving  her  intolerable 
condition;  she  yields;  and  the  first  "man 
made  of  money,"  who  can  afford  a  gov- 
erness for  his  children,  cries  out  against 
the  depravity  of  the  lower  orders !  And 
yet,  painful  as  the  condition  of  the  work- 
ing woman  is,  it  is  relatively  fortunate. 
Should  work  fail  her  for  one  day,  two 
days,  what  then?  Should  sickness  come 
— sickness  almost  always  occasioned  by 
unwholesome  food,  want  of  fresh  air, 
necessary  attention,  and  good  rest;  sick- 
ness, often  so  enervating  as  to  render 
work  impossible;  though  not  so  danger- 
ous as  to  procure  the  sufferer  a  bed  in  a 
hospital  —  what  becomes  of  the  hapless 
wretches  then?  The  mind  hesitates,  and 
shrinks  from  dwelling  on  such  gloomy 
pictures. 


44tf  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

This  inadequacy  of  wages,  one  terrible 
source  of  so  many  evils,  and  often  of  so 
many  vices,  is  general,  especially  among 
women;   and,  again,    this   is   not   private 
wretchedness,  but  the  wretchedness  which 
afflicts  whole   classes,  the  type   of  which 
we  endeavor  io  develop  in  Mother  Bunch. 
It  exhibits  the  moral  and  physical  condi- 
tion of  thousands  of  human  creatures  in 
Paris,  obliged  to  subsist  on  a  scanty  four 
shillings  a  week.     This  poor  workwoman, 
then,  notwithstanding  the  advantages  she 
unknowingly  enjoyed  through  Agricola's 
generosity,  lived  very  miserably ;  and  her 
health,  already  shattered,  was  now  wholly 
undermined  by  these  constant  hardships. 
Yet,  with  extreme  delicacy,  though  igno- 
rant of  the  little  sacrifice  already  made  for 
her  by  Agricola,  Mother  Bunch  pretended 
she   earned   more   than   she  really  did,  in 
order  to  avoid  offers  of  service  which  it 
would  have  pained  her  to  accept,  because 
she  knew  the  limited  means  of   Frances 
and  her  son,  and  because  it  would   have 
wounded   her  natural   delicacy,   rendered 
still  more  sensitive  by  so  many  sorrows 
and  humiliations. 

But,  singular  as  it  may  appear,  this  de- 
formed body  contained  a  loving  and  gen- 


THE   WANDERING   JEW.  449 

erous  soul  —  a  mind  cultivated  even  to 
poetry;  and  let  us  add,  that  this  was 
owing  to  the  example  of  Agricola  Bau- 
doin,  with  whom  she  had  been  brought 
up,  and  who  had  naturally  the  gift.  This 
poor  girl  was  the  first  confidente  to  whom 
our  young  mechanic  imparted  his  literary 
essays ;  and  when  he  told  her  of  the  charm 
and  extreme  relief  he  found  in  poetic 
reverie,  after  a  day  of  hard  toil,  the 
workwoman,  gifted  with  strong  natural 
intelligence,  felt,  in  her  turn,  how  great  a 
resource  this  would  be  to  her  in  her  lonely 
and  despised  condition. 

One  day,  to  Agricola's  great  surprise, 
who  had  just  read  some  verses  to  her,  the 
sewing  girl,  with  smiles  and  blushes, 
fcimidly  communicated  to  him  also  a  poetic 
composition.  Her  verses  wanted  rhythm 
and  harmony,  perhaps:  but  they  were 
simple  and  affecting,  as  a  non-envenomed 
complaint  intrusted  to  a  friendly  hearer. 
From  that  day  Agricola  and  she  held  fre- 
quent consultations :  they  gave  each  other 
mutual  encouragement :  but  with  this  ex- 
ception, no  one  else  knew  anything  of  the 
girl's  poetical  essays,  whose  mild  timidity 
made  her  often  pass  for  a  person  of  weak 
intellect.  This  soul  must  have  been  great 
and  beautiful,  for  in  all  her  unlettered 


45(1  THE   WANDERING   JEW. 

strains  there  was  not  a  word  of  murmur- 
ing respecting  her  hard  lot :  her  note  was 
sad,  but  gentle — desponding,  but  resigned : 
it  was  especially  the  language  of  deep  ten- 
derness— of  mournful  sympathy — of  an- 
gelic charity  for  all  poor  creatures  con- 
signed, like  her,  to  bear  the  double  burden 
of  poverty  and  deformity.  Yet  she  often 
expressed  a  sincere  free-spoken  admiration 
of  beauty,  free  from  all  envy  or  bitterness : 
she  admired  beauty  as  she  admired  the 
sun.  But,  alas!  many  were  the  verses  of 
hers  that  Agricola  had  never  seen,  and 
which  he  was  never  to  see. 

The  young  mechanic,  though  not  strict  • 
ly  handsome,  had  an  open  masculine  face : 
was  as  courageous  as  kind:  possessed  a 
noble,  glowing,  generous  heart,  a  superior 
mind,  and  a  frank,  pleasing  gayety  of 
spirits.  The  young  girl,  brought  up  with 
him,  loved  him  as  an  unfortunate  creature 
can  love,  who,  dreading  cruel  ridicule,  is 
obliged  to  hide  her  affection  in  the  depths 
of  her  heart,  and  adopt  reserve  and  deep 
dissimulation.  She  need  not  seek  to  com- 
bat her  love :  to  what  purpose  should  she 
do  so?  No  one  would  ever  know  it.  Her 
welUknown  sisterly  affection  for  Agricola 
explained  the  interest  she  took  in  all  that 
concerned  him :  so  that  no  one  was  sur- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW  451 

prised  at  the  extreme  grief  of  the  young 
workwoman,  when,  in  1830,  Agricola, 
after  fighting  intrepidly  for  the  people's 
flag,  was  brought  bleeding  home  to  his 
mother.  Dagobert's  son,  deceived,  like 
others,  on  this  point,  had  never  suspected, 
and  was  destined  never  to  suspect,  this 
love  for  him. 

Such  was  the  poorly  clad  girl  who  en- 
tered the  room  in  which  Frances  was  pre- 
paring her  son's  supper. 

"Is  it  you,  my  poor  love?"  said  she. 
"I  have  not  seen  you  since  morning:  have 
you  been  ill?  Come  and  kiss  me. " 

The  young  girl  kissed  Agricola's  mother, 
and  replied:  "I  was  very  busy  about  some 
work,  mother:  I  did  not  wish  to  lose  a 
moment :  I  have  only  just  finished  it.  I 
am  going  down  to  fetch  some  charcoal — 
do  you  want  anything  while  I'm  out?" 

"No,  no,  my  child,  thank  you.  But  I 
am  very  uneasy.  It  is  half -past  eight, 
and  Agricola  is  not  come  home."  Then 
she  added,  after  a  sigh:  "He  kills  himself 
with  work  for  me.  Ah,  I  am  very  un- 
happy, my  girl :  my  sight  is  quite  going. 
In  a  quarter  pf  an  hour  after  I  begin 
working  I  cannot  see  at  all — not  even  to 
sew  sacks.  The  idea  of  being  a  burden  to 
my  son  drives  me  distracted.'* 


452 


THE   WANDERING  JEW. 


"Oh,  don't,   ma'am,  if   Agricola  heard 
you  say  that — " 

"I  know  the  poor  boy  thinks  of  nothing 
but  me,  and  that  augments  my  vexation. 
Only  I  think  that,  rather  than  leave  me, 
he  gives  up  the  advantages  that  his  fellow- 
workmen  enjoy  at  Hardy's,  his  good  and 
worthy  master— instead  of  living  in  this 
dull  garret,  where  it  is  scarcely  light  at 
noon,  he  would  enjoy,  like  the  other  work- 
men, at  very  little  expense,  a  good  light 
room,  warm  in  winter,  airy  in  summer, 
with  a  view  of  the  gardens.  And  he  is  so 
fond  of  trees!  not  to  mention  that  this 
place  is  so  far  from  his  work  that  it  is 
quite  a  toil  to  him  to  get  to  it." 

"Or,  when  he  embraces  you  he  forgets 
his  fatigue,  Mrs.  Baudoin,"  said  Mother 
Bunch;  "besides,  he  knows  how  you  cling 
to  the  house  in  which  he  was  born.  M. 
Hardy  offered  to  settle  you  at  Plessy  with 
Agricola,  in  the  building  put  up  for  the 
workmen." 

"Yes,  my  child:  but  then  I  must  give 
up  church.  I  can't  do  that." 

"But — be  easy,  I  hear  him,"  said  the 
hunchback,  blushing. 

A  sonorous,  joyous  voice  was  heard 
singing  on  the  stairs. 

"At  least  I'll  not  let  him  see  I  have  been 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  458 

crying,"  said  the  good  mother,  drying 
her  tears.  "This  is  the  only  moment  of 
rest  and  ease  from  toil  he  has — I  must  not 
make  it  sad  to  him." 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

AGRJCOLA     BAUDOIN. 

OUR  blacksmith  poet,  a  tall  young  man, 
about  four-and-twenty  years  of  age,  was 
alert  and  robust,  with  ruddy  complexion, 
dark  hair  and  eyes,  and  aquiline  nose,  and 
an  open,  expressive  countenance.  His  re- 
semblance to  Dagobert  was  rendered  more 
striking  by  the  thick  brown  mustache 
which  he  wore  according  to  the  fashion: 
and  a  sharp  pointed  imperial  covered  his 
chin.  His  cheeks,  however,  were  shaven. 
Olive  colored  velveteen  trousers,  a  blue 
blouse,  bronzed  by  the  forge  smoke,  a 
black  cravat,  tied  carelessly  round  his 
muscular  neck,  a  cloth  cap  with  a  narrow 
vizor,  composed  his  dress.  The  only 
thing  which  contrasted  singularly  with  his 
working  habiliments  was  a  handsome  pnr- 
ple  flower,  with  silvery  pistils,  which  he 
held  in  his  hand. 

"Good-evening,  mother,"  said  he,  as  he 
came  to  kiss  Frances  immediately. 

Then,  with  a  friendly  nod,  he  added, 
"Good-evening,  Mother  Bunch.  ^ 


454  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"You  are  very  late,  my  child,"  said 
Frances,  approaching  the  little  stove  on 
which  her  son's  simple  meal  was  simmer- 
ing ;  "  I  was  getting  very  anxious. ' ' 

"Anxious  about  me,  or  about  my  sup- 
per, dear  mother?"  said  Agricola,  gayly; 
"the  deuce!  you  won't  excuse  me  for 
keeping  the  nice  little  supper  waiting  that 
you  get  ready  for  me,  for  fear  it  should  be 
spoiled,  eh?" 

So  saying,  the  blacksmith  tried  to  kiss 
his  mother  again. 

"Have  done,  you  naughty  boy;  you'll 
make  me  upset  the  pan." 

"That  would  be  a  pity,  mother;  for  it 
smells  delightfully.  Let's  see  what  it  is." 

"Wait  half  a  moment." 

"I'll  swear,  now,  you  have  some  of  the 
fried  potatoes  and  bacon  I'm  so  fond  of." 

"Being  Saturday,  of  course!  "  said 
Frances,  in  a  tone  of  mild  reproach. 

"True,"  rejoined  Agricola,  exchanging 
a  smile  of  innocent  cunning  with  Mother 
Bunch;  "but,  talking  of  Saturday,  mother, 
here  are  my  wages." 

"Thank  ye,  child;  put  the  money  in  the 
cupboard." 

"Yes,  mother!" 

"Oh,  dear,"  cried  the  young  seamstress, 
just  as  Agricola  was  about  to  put  away 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  455 

the  money,  "what  a  handsome  flower  you 
have  in  your  hand,  Agricola.  I  never 
saw  a  finer.  In  winter,  too !  Do  look  at 
it,  Mrs.  Baudoin." 

"See  there,  mother,"  said  Agricola, 
taking  the  flower  to  her:  "look  at  it,  ad- 
mire it,  and  especially  smell  it.  You  can't 
have  a  sweeter  perfume;  a  blending  of 
vanilla  and  orange  blossom." 

"Indeed,  it  does  smell  nice,  child. 
Goodness!  how  handsome!"  said  Frances, 
admiringly;  "where  did  you  find  it?" 

"Find  it,  my  good  mother!"  repeated 
Agricola,  smilingly:  "do  you  think  folks 
pick  up  such  things  between  the  Barriere 
du  Maine  and  the  Rue  Brise  Miche?" 

"How  did  you  get  it  then?"  inquired 
the  sewing-girl,  sharing  in  Frances's  cu- 
riosity. 

"Oh!  you  would  like  to  know?  Well, 
I'll  satisfy  you,  and  explain  why  I  came 
home  so  late;  for  something  else  detained 
me.  It  has  been  an  evening  of  advent- 
ures, I  promise  you.  I  was  hurrying 
home,  when  I  heard  a  low,  gentle  barking 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Babylone;  it 
was  just  about  dusk,  and  I  could  see  a 
very  pretty  little  dog,  scarce  bigger  than 
my  fist,  black  and  tan,  with  long  silky 
hair,  and  ears  that  covered  its  paws." 


456  THE   WANDEKING  JEW. 

"Lost,  poor  thing,  I  warrant,"  said 
Frances. 

"You've  hit  it.  I  took  up  the  poor 
thing,  and  it  began  to  lick  my  hands. 
Round  its  neck  was  a  red  satin  ribbon, 
tied  in  a  large  bow;  but  as  that  did  not 
bear  the  master's  name,  I  looked  beneath 
it,  and  saw  a  small  collar,  made  of  a  gold 
plate  and  small  gold  chains.  So  I  took  a 
lucifer  match  from  my  'bacco-box,  and 
striking  a  light,  I  read,  'FRISKY  belongs 
to  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  de  Cardoville, 
No.  7,  Rue  de  Babylone.'  " 

"Why,  you  were  just  in  the  street," 
said  Mother  Bunch. 

"Just  so.  Taking  the  little  animal  un- 
der my  arm,  I  looked  about  me  till  I  came 
to  a  long  garden  wall,  which  seemed  to 
have  no  end,  and  found  a  small  door  of  a 
summer-house,  belonging  no  doubt  to  the 
large  mansion  at  the  other  end  of  the 
park;  for  this  garden  looked  just  like  a 
park.  So,  looking  up,  I  saw  'No.  7,'  new- 
ly painted  over  a  little  door  with  a  grated 
slide.  I  rang;  and  in  a  few  minutes, 
spent,  no  doubt,  in  observing  me  through 
the  bars  (for  I  am  sure  I  saw  a  pair  of  eyes 
peeping  through),  the  gate 'opened.  And 
now,  you'll  not  believe  a  word  I  have  to 
say." 


THE    WANDEKINO  JEW.  457 

"Why  not,  my  child?" 

"Because  it  seems  like  a  fairy  tale.*' 

"A  fairy  tale?"  said  Mother  Bunch,  as 
if  she  was  really  her  namesake  of  elfish 
history. 

"For  all  the  world  it  does.  I  am  quite 
astounded,  even  now,  at  my  adventure;  it 
is  like  the  remembrance  of  a  dream." 

' '  Well,  let  us  have  it, ' '  said  the  worthy 
mother,  so  deeply  interested  that  she  did 
not  perceive  her  son's  supper  was  begin- 
ning to  burn. 

"First,"  said  the  blacksmith,  smiling  at 
the  curiosity  he  had  excited,  "a  young  lady 
opened  the  door  to  me,  but  so  lovely,  so 
beautifully  and  gracefully  dressed,  that 
you  would  have  taken  her  for  a  beautiful 
portrait  of  past  times.  Before  I  could  sny 
a  word,  she  exclaimed,  'Ah!  dear  me,  sir, 
you  have  brought  back  Frisky ;  how  happy 
Miss  Adrienne  will  be!  Come,  pray  come 
in  instantly;  she  would  so  regret  not  hav- 
ing an  opportunity  to  thank  you  in  per- 
son!' And  without  giving  me  time  to  re- 
ply, she  beckoned  me  to  follow  her.  Oh, 
dear  mother,  it  is  quite  out  of  my  power 
to  tell  you  all  the  magnificence  I  saw,  as  I 
passed  through  a  small  saloon,  partially 
lighted,  and  full  of  perfume!  It  would  be 
impossible.  The  young  woman  walked  too 
VOL.  1-20 


458  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

quickly.  A  door  opened  —  Oh,  such  a 
sight !  I  was  so  dazzled  I  can  remember 
nothing  but  a  great  glare  of  gold  and  light, 
crystal  and  flowers;  and,  amid  all  this 
brilliancy,  a  young  lady  of  extreme  beauty 
— ideal  beauty;  but  she  had  red  hair,  or 
rather  hair  shining  like  gold!  Oh!  it  was 
charming  to  look  at !  I  never  saw  such 
hair  before.  She  had  black  eyes,  ruddy 
lips,  and  her  skin  seemed  white  as  snow. 
This  is  all  I  can  recollect ;  for,  as  I  said 
before,  I  was  so  dazzled,  I  seemed  to  be 
looking  through  a  veil.  'Madame,'  said 
the  young  woman,  whom  I  never  should 
have  taken  for  a  lady's-maid,  she  was 
dressed  so  elegantly,  'here  is  Frisky. 
This  gentleman  found  him,  and  brought 
him  back.'  'Oh!  sir,'  said  the  young  lady 
with  the  golden  hair,  in  a  sweet,  silvery 
voice,  'what  thanks  I  owe  you!  I  am 
foolishly  attached  to  Frisky.'  Then,  no 
doubt,  concluding  from  my  dress  that  she 
ought  to  thank  me  in  some  other  way  than 
by  words,  she  took  up  a  silk  purse,  and 
said  to  me,  though  I  must  confess  with 
some  hesitation— 'No  doubt,  sir,  it  gave 
you  some  trouble  to  bring  my  pet  back. 
You  have,  perhaps,  lost  some  valuable 
time — allow  me — '  She  held  forth  her 
ourse." 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  459 

"Oh,  Agricola,"  said  Mother  Bunch, 
sadly;  "how  people  may  be  deceived!" 

"Hear  the  end  and  you  will,  perhaps, 
forgive  the  young  lady.  Seeing  by  nay 
looks  that  the  offer  of  her  purse  hurt  me, 
she  took  a  magnificent  porcelain  vase  that 
contained  this  flower,  and  addressing  me 
in  a  tone  full  of  grace  and  kindness,  that 
left  me  room  to  guess  that  she  was  vexed 
at  having  wounded  me,  she  said — 'A* 
least,  sir,  you  will  accept  this  flower.'  ' 

"You  are  right,  Agricola,"  said  the 
girl,  smiling  sadly,  "an  involuntary  error 
could  not  be  repaired  in  a  nicer  way." 

"Worthy  young  lady,"  said  Frances, 
wiping  her  eyes;  "how  well  she  under- 
stood my  Agricola!" 

"Did  she  not,  mother?  But  just  as  I 
was  taking  the  flower,  without  daring  to 
raise  my  eyes  (for,  notwithstanding  the 
young  lady's  kind  manner,  there  was 
something  very  imposing  about  her),  an- 
other handsome  girl,  tall  and  dark,  and 
dressed  to  the  top  of  fashion,  came  in  and 
said  to  the  red-haired  young  lady,  'He  is 
here,  madame. '  She  immediately  rose  and 
said  to  me,  'A  thousand  pardons,  sir.  I 
shall  never  forget  that  I  am  indebted  to 
you  for  a  moment  of  much  pleasure.  Pray 
remember,  on  all  occasions,  my  address 


460  HE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  name  —  A.drienne  de  Cardoville. ' 
Thereupon  she  disappeared.  I  could  not 
find  a  word  to  say  in  reyly.  The  same 
young  woman  showed  me  to  the  door,  and 
courtesied  to  me  very  politely.  And  there 
I  stood  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  as  dazzled 
and  astonished  as  if  I  had  come  out  of  an 
enchanted  palace." 

"Indeed,  my  child,  it  is  like  a  fairy  tale. 
Is  it  not,  my  poor  girl?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Mother  Bunch,  in 
an  absent  manner  that  Agricola  did  not 
observe. 

"What  affected  me  most,"  rejoined 
Agricola,  "was  that  the  young  lady,  on 
seeing  her  little  dog,  did  not  forget  me  for 
it,  as  many  would  have  done  in  her  place, 
and  took  no  notice  of  it  before  me.  That 
shows  delicacy  and  feeling,  does  it  not? 
Indeed,  I  believe  this  young  lady  to  be  so 
kind  and  generous  that  I  should  not  hesi- 
tate to  have  recourse  to  her  in  any  impor- 
tant case."  , 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  replied  the  seam- 
stress, more  and  more  absent. 

The  poor  girl  suffered  extremely.  She 
felt  no  jealousy,  no  hatred,  toward  this 
young  stranger,  who,  from  her  beauty, 
wealth,  and  delicacy,  seemed  to  belong  to 
a  sphere  too  splendid  and  elevated  to  be 


THE    WANDERING   JEW.  461 

even  within  the  reach  of  a  work-girl's  vis- 
ion; but,  making  an  involuntary  compari- 
son of  this  fortunate  condition  with  her 
own,  the  poor  thing  had  never  felt  more 
cruelly  her  deformity  and  poverty.  Yet 
such  were  the  humility  and  gentle  resig- 
nation of  this  noble  creature  that  the  only 
thing  which  made  her  feel  ill-disposed  to- 
ward Adrieune  de  Cardoville  was  the  offer 
of  the  purse  to  Agricola;  but  the  charm- 
ing way  in  which  the  young  lady  had 
atoned  for  her  error  affected  the  seam- 
stress deeply.  Yet  her  heart  was  ready 
to  break.  She  could  not  restrain  her 
tears,  as  she  contemplated  the  magnificent 
flower  —  so  rich  in  color  and  perfume, 
which,  given  by  a  charming  hand,  was 
doubtless  very  precious  to  Agricola. 

"Now,  mother,"  resumed  the  young 
man  smilingly,  and  unaware  of  the  painful 
emotion  of  the  other  bystander,  "you  have 
had  the  cream  of  my  adventures  first.  I 
have  told  you  one  of  the  causes  of  my  de 
lay;  and  now  for  the  other.  Just  now,  as 
I  was  coming  in,  I  met  the  dyer  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  his  arms  a  beautiful  pea- 
green.  Stopping  me,  he  said,  with  an  air 
full  of  importance,  that  he  thought  he  had 
seen  a  chap  sneaking  about  the  house  like 
a  spy.  'Well,  what  is  that  to  you,  Daddy 


462  THE    WANDERING  JEW 

Loriot?'  said  I;  'are  you  afraid  he  will 
nose  out  the  way  to  make  the  beautiful 
green,  with  which  you  are  dyed  up  to  the 
very  elbows?'  ' 

"But  who  could  that  man  be,  Agricola?" 
said  Frances. 

"On  my  word,  mother,  I  don't  know 
and  scarcely  care;  I  tried  to  persuade 
Daddy  Loriot,  who  chatters  like  a  magpie, 
to  return  to  his  cellar,  since  it  could  signify 
as  little  to  him  as  to  me,  whether  a  spy 
watched  him  or  not. "  So  saying,  Agricola 
went  and  placed  the  little  leathern  sack, 
containing  his  wages,  on  a  shelf,  in  the 
cupboard. 

As  Frances  put  down  the  saucepan  on 
the  end  of  the  table,  Mother  Bunch,  re- 
covering from  her  reverie,  filled  a  basin 
with  water,  and,  taking  it  to  the  black- 
smith, said  to  him  in  a  gentle  tone : 

"Agricola — for  your  hands." 

"Thank  you,  little  sister.  How  kind 
you  are!"  Then  with  a  most  unaffected 
gesture  and  tone,  he  added,  "There  is  my 
fine  flower  for  your  trouble." 

"Do  you  give  it  to  me?"  cried  the  seam- 
stress, with  emotion,  while  a  vivid  blush 
colored  her  pale  and  interesting  face.  "Do 
you  give  me  this  handsome  flower,  which 
a  lovely  rich  young  lady  so  kindly  and 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  4(}JJ 

graciously  gave  you?"  And  the  poor 
thing  repeated,  with  growing  astonish- 
ment, "Do  you  give  it  to  me?" 

"What  the  deuce  should  I  do  with  it? 
Wear  it  on  my  heart,  have  it  set  as  a  pin?" 
said  Agricola,  smiling.  "It  is  true  I  was 
very  much  impressed  by  the  charming  way 
in  which  the  young  lady  thanked  me.  I 
am  delighted  to  think  I  found  her  little 
dog,  and  very  happy  to  be  able  to  give 
you  this  flower,  since  it  pleases  you.  You 
see  the  day  has  been  a  happy  one. ' ' 

While  Mother  Bunch,  trembling  with 
pleasure,  emotion,  and  surprise,  took  the 
flower,  the  young  blacksmith  washed  his 
hands,  so  black  with  smoke  and  steel  fil- 
ings that  the  water  became  dark  in  an  in- 
stant. Agricola,  pointing  out  this  change 
to  the  seamstress,  said  to  her  in  a  whisper, 
laughing: 

"Here's  cheap  ink  for  us  paper  stain- 
ers!  I  finished  some  verses  yesterday, 
which  I  am  rather  satisfied  with.  I  will 
read  them  to  you." 

With  this,  Agricola  wiped  his  hands 
naturally  on  the  front  of  his  blouse,  while 
Mother  Bunch  replaced  the  basin  on  the 
chest  of  drawers,  and  laid  the  flower 
against  the  side  of  it. 

"Can't    you    ask  for    a    towel,"   said 


464  THE   WANDEKING  JEW. 

Frances,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  "in- 
stead of  wiping  your  hands  on  your 
blouse?" 

"After  being  scorched  all  day  long  at 
the  forge,  it  will  be  all  the  better  for  a  lit- 
tle cooling  to-night,  won't  it?  Am  I  dis- 
obedient, mother?  Scold  me,  then,  if  you 
dare!  Come,  let  us  see  you." 

Frances  made  no  reply ;  but,  placing  her 
hands  on  either  side  of  her  son's  head,  so 
beautiful  in  its  candor,  resolution  and  in- 
telligence, she  surveyed  him  for  a  moment 
with  maternal  pride,  and  kissed  him  re- 
peatedly on  the  forehead. 

"Come,"  said  she,  "sit  down;  you  stand 
all  day  at  your  forge,  and  it  is  late. " 

"So — your  armchair  again!"  said  Agri- 
cola. — "Our  usual  quarrel  every  evening — 
take  it  away,  I  shall  be  quite  as  much  at 
ease  on  another.*' 

"No,  no!  You  ought  at  least  to  rest 
after  your  hard  toil." 

""What  tyranny !"  said  Agricola,  gayly, 
sitting  down.  "Well,  I  preach  like  a  good 
apostle;  but  I  am  quite  at  ease  in  your 
armchair,  after  all.  Since  I  sat  down  on 
the  throne  in  the  Tuilleries,  I  have  never 
had  a  better  seat." 

Frances  Baudoin,  standing  on  one  side 
of  the  table,  cut  a  slice  of  bread  for  her 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  465 

son,  while  Mother  Bunch,  on  the  other, 
filled  his  silver  mug.  There  was  some- 
thing affecting  in  the  attentive  eagerness 
of  the  two  excellent  creatures  for  him 
whom  they  loved  so  tenderly. 

""Won't  you  sup  with  me?"  said  Agri- 
cola  to  the  girl. 

"Thank  you,  Agricola, "  replied  the 
seamstress,  looking  down,  "I  have  only 
just  dined." 

"Oh,  I  only  ask  you  for  form's  sake — you 
have  your  whims — we  can  never  prevail 
on  you  to  eat  with  us — just  like  mother: 
she  prefers  dining  all  alone;  and  in  that 
way  she  deprives  herself  without  my 
knowing  it." 

"Goodness,  child!  It  is  better  for  my 
health  to  dine  early.  Well,  do  you  find  it 
nice?" 

"Nice!  call  it  excellent!  Stockfish  and 
parsnips.  -  Oh,  I  am  very  fond  of  stock- 
fish ;  I  should  have  been  born  a  Newfound- 
land fisherman." 

This  worthy  lad,  on  the  contrary,  was 
but  poorly  refreshed,  after  a  hard  day's 
toil,  with  this  paltry  stew — a  little  burned 
as  it  had  been,  too,  during  his  story;  but 
he  knew  he  pleased  his  mother  by  observ- 
ing the  fast  without  complaining.  He 
affected  to  enjoy  his  meal ;  and  the  good 


46tt  THE   WANDERING  JEW. 

woman  accordingly  observed  with   satis- 
faction : 

"Oh,  I  see  you  like  it,  my  dear  boy. 
Friday  and  Saturday  next  we'll  have 
some  more." 

"Thank  you,  mother — only  not  two  days: 
together.  One  gets  tired  of  luxuries,  you 
know!  And  now  let  us  talk  of  what  we 
shall  do  to-morrow — Sunday.  We  must 
be  very  merry,  for  the  last  few  days  you 
seem  very  sad,  dear  mother,  and  I  can't 
make  it  out — I  fancy  you  are  not  satisfied 
with  me." 

"Oh,  my  dear  child!  you — the  pattern 
of—" 

"Well,  well!     Prove  to  me  that  you  are 
happy,  then,  by  taking  a  little  amusement 
Perhaps  you  will  do  us  the  honor  of  accom 
panying  us,  as  you  did  last  time,"  added 
Agricola,  bowing  to  Mother  Bunch. 

The  latter  blushed  and  looked  down ;  hei 
face  assumed  an  expression  of  bitter  grief, 
and  she  made  no  reply. 

"I  have  the  prayers  to  attend  all  day 
you  know,  my  dear  child,"  said  France* 
to  her  son. 

"Well,  in  the  evening  then?  I  don'i 
propose  the  theater ;  but  they  say  there  is- 
a  conjurer  to  be  seen  whose  tricks  are  verj 
amusing." 


THK    WANDERING   JEW.  467 

"I  am  obliged  to  you,  my  son;  but  that 
is  a  kind  of  theater." 

"Dear  mother,  this  is  unreasonable!" 

"My  dear  child,  do  I  ever  hinder  others 
from  doing  what  they  like?" 

"True,  dear  mother,  forgive  me.  Well, 
then,  if  it  should  be  fine,  we  will  simply 
take  a  walk  with  Mother  Bunch  on  the 
Boulevards.  It  is  nearly  three  months 
since  she  went  out  with  us;  and  she  never 
goes  out  without  us." 

"No,  no;  go  alone,  my  child.  Enjoy 
your  Sunday,  'tis  little  enough." 

"You  know  very  well,  Agricola,"  said 
the  seamstress,. blushing  up  to  the  eyes, 
"that  I  ought  not  to  go  out  with  you  and 
your  mother  again." 

"Why  not,  madame?  May  I  ask,  with- 
out impropriety,  the  cause  of  this  refusal?" 
said  Agricola,  gayly. 

The  poor  girl  smiled  sadly,  and  replied, 
"Because  I  will  not  expose  you  to  a  quar- 
rel on  my  account,  Agricola. ' ' 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Agricola,  in  a  tone 
of  sincere  grief,  and  he  struck  his  forehead 
vexedly. 

To  this  Mother  Bunch  alluded  some- 
times, but  very  rarely,  for  she  observed 
punctilious  discretion.  The  girl  had  gone 
out  with  Agricola  and  his  mother.  Such 


468  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

occasions  were,  indeed,  holidays  for  her. 
Many  days  and  nights  had  she  toiled  hard 
to  procure  a  decent  bonnet  and  shawl, 
that  she  might  not  do  discredit  to  her 
friends.  The  five  or  six  days  of  holidays, 
thus  spent  arm-in-arm  with  him  whom 
she  adored  in  secret,  formed  the  sum  of 
her  happy  days. 

Taking  their  last  walk,  a  coarse,  vulgar 
man  elbowed  her  so  rudely  that  the  poor 
girl  could  not  refrain  from  a  cry  of  terror, 
and  the  man  retorted  to  it  by  saying : 

"What  are  you  rolling  your  hump  in  my 
way  for,  stoopid?" 

Agricola,  like  his  father,  had  the  pa- 
tience which  force  and  courage  give  to  the 
truly  brave;  but  he  was  extremely  quick 
when  it  became  necessary  to  avenge  an 
insult.  Irritated  at  the  vulgarity  of  this 
man,  Agricola  left  his  mother's  arm,  to 
inflict  on  the  brute,  who  was  of  his  own 
age,  size  and  force,  two  vigorous  blows, 
such  as  the  powerful  arm  and  huge  fist  of 
a  blacksmith  never  before  inflicted  on  hu- 
man face.  The  villain  attempted  to  return 
it,  and  Agricola  repeated  the  correction,  to 
the  amusement  of  the  "crowd,  and  the  fel- 
low slunk  away  amid  a  deluge  of  hisses. 
This  adventure  made  Mother  Bunch  sav 
she  would  not  go  out  with  Agricola  again, 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  469 

in  order  to  save  him  any  occasion  of  quar- 
rel. We  may  conceive  the  blacksmith's 
regret  at  having  thus  unwittingly  revived 
the  memory  of  this  circumstance — more 
painful,  alas!  for  Mother  Bunch  than 
Agricola  could  imagine,  for  she  loved  him 
passionately,  and  her  infirmity  had  been 
the  cause  of  that  quarrel.  Notwithstand- 
ing his  strength  and  resolution,  Agricola 
was  childishly  sensitive;  and,  thinking 
how  painful  that  thought  must  be  to  the 
poor  girl,  a  large  tear  filled  his  eyes,  and 
holding  out  his  hands  he  said,  in  a  broth- 
erly tone,  "Forgive  my  heedlessness ! 
Come,  kiss  me."  And  he  gave  her  thin, 
pale  cheeks  two  hearty  kisses. 

The  poor  girl's  lips  turned  pale  at  this 
cordial  caress;  and  her  heart  beat  so  vio- 
lently that  she  was  obliged  to  lean  against 
the  corner  of  the  table. 

"Come,  you  forgive  me,  do  you  not?" 
said  Agricola. 

"Yes!  yes!"  she  said,  tiying  to  sub- 
due her  emotion;  "but  the  recollection  of 
that  quarrel  pains  me—  I  was  so  alarmed 
on  your  account;  if  the  crowd  had  sided 
with  that  man?" 

"Alas!"  said  Frances,  coming  to  the 
sewing  girl's  relief,  without  knowing  it, 
"I  was  never  so  afraid  in  all  my  life!" 


470  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"Oh,  mother,"  rejoined  Agricola,  trying 
to  change  a  conversation  which  had  now 
become  disagreeable  for  the  seamstress, 
"for  the  wife  of  a  horse  grenadier  of  the 
Imperial  Guard,  you  have  not  much  cour- 
age. Oh,  my  brave  father;  I  can't  believe 
he  is  really  coming?  The  very  thought 
turns  me  topsy-turvy!" 

"Heaven  grant  he  may  come,"  said 
Frances,  with  a  sigh. 

"God  grant  it,  mother.  He  will  grant 
it,  I  should  think.  Lord  knows,  you  have 
had  masses  enough  said  for  his  return." 

"Agricola,  my  child,"  said  Frances, 
interrupting  her  son,  and  shaking  her  head 
sadly,  * ' do  not  speak  in  that  way.  Besides, 
you  are  talking  of  your  father." 

"Well,  I'm  in  for  it  this  evening.  'Tis 
your  turn  now ;  positively,  I  am  growing 
stupid,  or  going  crazy.  Forgive  me, 
mother!  forgive!  That's  the  only  word 
I  can  get  out  to-night.  You  know  that, 
when  I  do  let  out  on  certain  subjects,  it  is 
because  I  can't  help  it;  for  I  know  well 
the  pain  it  gives  you." 

"You  do  not  offend  me,  my  poor,  dear, 
misguided  boy." 

"It  comes  to  the  same  thing;  and  there 
is  nothing  so  bad  as  to  offend  one's  mother, 
and,  with  respect  to  what  I  said  about 


THE    WANDERING  JEW.  471 

father's  return,  I  do  not  see  that  we  have 
any  cause  to  doubt  it." 

"But  we  have  not  heard  from  him  for 
four  months." 

"You  know,  mother,  in  his  letter — that 
is,  in  the  letter  which  he  dictated  (for  you 
remember  that,  with  the  candor  of  an  old 
soldier,  he  told  us  tfiat,  if  he  could  read 
tolerably  well,  he  could  not  write) — well, 
in  that  letter  he  said  we  were  not  to  be 
anxious  about  him;  that  he  expected  to  be 
in  Paris  about  the  end  of  January,  and 
would  send  us  word,  three  or  four  days 
before,  by  what  road  he  expected  to  arrive, 
that  I  might  go  and  meet  him." 

"True,  my  child;  and  February  is  come, 
and  no  news  yet." 

"The  greater  reason  why  we  should 
wait  patiently.  But  I'll  tell  you  more :  I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  our  good  Gabriel 
were  to  come  back  about  the  same  time. 
His  last  letter  from  America  makes  me 
hope  so.  What  pleasure,  mother,  should 
all  the  family  be  together!" 

"Oh,  yes,  my  child!  It  would  be  a 
happy  day  for  me." 

"And  that  day  will  soon  come,  trust 
me." 

"Do  you  remember  your  father,  Agri- 
cola?"  inquired  Mother  Bunch. 


473  THE  WANDERING  JEW 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  remember  most  his 
great  grenadier's  shako  and  mustache, 
which  used  to  frighten  me  so  that  noth- 
ing but  the  red  ribbon  of  his  cross  of  honor 
on  the  white  facings  of  his  uniform,  and 
the  shining  handle  of  his  saber,  could 
pacify  me;  could  it,  mother?  But  what 
is  the  matter?  You  are  weeping!" 

"Alas!  poor  Baudoin!  What  he  must 
suffer  at  being  separated  from  us  at  his 
age — sixty  and  past !  Alas !  my  child,  my 
heart  breaks  when  I  think  that  he  comes 
home  only  to  change  one  kind  of  poverty 
for  another." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 
"Alas!  I  earn  nothing  now." 
"Whyj  what's  become  of  me?  Isn't 
there  a  room  here  for  you  and  for  him : 
and  a  table  for  you  too?  Only,  my  good 
mother,  since  we  are  talking  of  domestic 
affairs,"  added  the  blacksmith,  imparting 
increased  tenderness  to  his  tone,  that  he 
might  not  shock  his  mother,  "when  he 
and  Gabriel  come  home,  you  won't  want 
to  have  any  more  masses  said  and  tapers 
burned  for  them,  will  you?  Well,  that 
saving  will  enable  father  to  have  tobacco 
to  smoke,  and  his  bottle  of  wine  every  day. 
Then,  on  Sundays,  we  will  take  a  nice 
dinner  at  the  eating-house." 


THE   WANDERING   JEW.  473 

A  knocking  at  the  door  disturbed  Agri- 
cola. 

"Come  in,"  said  he.  Instead  of  doing 
so,  some  one  half  opened  the  door,  and 
thrusting  in  an  arm  of  a  pea-green  color, 
made  signs  to  the  blacksmith. 

"  'Tis  old  Loriot,  the  pattern  of  dyers," 
said  Agricola;  "come  in,  Daddy, 'no  cere- 
mony." 

"Impossible,  my  lad;  I  am  dripping 
with  dye  from  head  to  foot;  I  should 
cover  missus's  floor  with  green." 

"So  much  the  better.  It  will  remind 
me  of  the  fields  I  like  so  much." 

"Without  joking,  Agricola,  I  must 
speak  to  you  immediately." 

"About  the  spy,  eh?  Oh,  be  easy; 
what's  he  to  us?" 

"No;  I  think  he's  gone;  at  any  rate, 
the  fog  is  so  thick  I  can't  see  him.  But 
that's  not  it — come,  come  quickly!  It  is 
very  important,"  said  the  dyer,  with  a 
mysterious  look;  "and  only  concerns  you." 

"Me,  only?"  said  Agricola,  with  sur- 
prise. "What  can  it  be?" 

"Go  and  see,  my  child,"  said  Frances. 

"Yes,  mother;  but  the  deuce  take  me  if 
I  can  make  it  out." 

And  the  blacksmith  left  the  room,  leav- 
ing his  mother  with  Mother  Bunch. 


474  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

THE   RETURN. 

IN  five  minutes  Agricola  returned:  his 
face  was  pale  and  agitated — his  eyes  glis- 
tened with  tears,  and  his  hands  trembled; 
but  his  countenance  expressed  extraordi- 
nary happiness  and  emotion.  He  stood  at 
the  door  for  a  moment,  as  if  too  much 
affected  to  accost  his  mother. 

Frances's  sight  was  so  bad  that  she  did 
not  immediately  perceive  the  change  her 
son's  countenance  had  undergone. 

"Well,  my  child— what  is  it?"  she  in- 
quired. 

Before  the  blacksmith  could  reply, 
Mother  Bunch,  who  had  more  discern- 
ment, exclaimed:  "Goodness,  Agricola 
— how  pale  you  are!  Whatever  is  the 
matter?" 

"Mother,"  said  the  artisan,  hastening 
to  Frances,  without  replying  to  the  seam- 
stress— sc mother,  expect  news  that  will 
astonish  you;  but  promise  me  you  will  be 
calm." 

"What  do  you  mean?  How  you  trem- 
ble! Look  at  me  I  Mother  Bunch  was 
right — you  are  quite  pale." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  475 

"My  kind  mother!" — and  Agricola, 
kneeling  before  Frances,  took  both  her 
hands  in  his — "you  must— you  do  not 
know — but — " 

The  blacksmith  could  not  go  on.  Tears 
of  joy  interrupted  his  speech.  "You  weep, 
my  dear  child!  Your  tears  alarm  me! 
What  is  the  matter?  you  terrify  me!" 

"Oh,  no,  I  would  not  terrify  you;  on 
the  contrary,"  said  Agricola,  drying  his 
eyes — "you  will  be  so  happy.  But,  again, 
you  must  try  and  command  your  feelings, 
for  too  much  joy  is  as  hurtful  as  too  much 
grief." 

"What?" 

"Did  I  not  say  true,  when  I  said  he 
would  come?" 

"Father!"  cried  Frances.  She  rose 
from  her  seat;  but  her  surprise  and  emo- 
tion were  so  great  that  she  put  one  hand 
to  her  heart  to  still  its  beating,  and  then 
she  felt  her  strength  fail.  Her  son  sus- 
tained her,  and  assisted  her  to  sit  down. 

Mother  Bunch,  till  now,  had  stood  dis- 
creetly apart,  witnessing  from  a  distance 
the  scene  which  completely  engrossed 
Agricola  and  his  mother.  But  she  now 
drew  near  timidly,  thinking  she  might  be 
useful;  for  Frances  changed  color  more 
and  more. 


476  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"Come,  courage,  mother,"  said  the 
blacksmith;  "now  the  shock  is  over,  you 
have  only  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
my  father." 

"My  poor  man!  after  eighteen  years' 
absence.  Oh,  I  cannot  believe  it,"  said 
Frances,  bursting  into  tears.  "Is  it  true? 
Is  it,  indeed,  true?" 

"So  true,  that  if  you  will  promise  me  to 
keep  as  calm  as  you  can,  I  will  tell  you 
when  you  may  see  him." 

"Soon— may  I  not?" 

"Yes;  soon." 

"But  when  will  he  arrive?" 

"He  may  arrive  at  any  minute — to-mor- 
row— perhaps  to-day." 

"To-day!" 

"Yes,  mother!  Well,  I  must  tell  you 
all — he  has  arriv.ed." 

"He — he  is — "  Frances  could  not  ar- 
ticulate the  word. 

"He  was  downstairs  just  now.  Before 
coming  up,  he  sent  the  dyer  to  apprise  me 
that  I  might  prepare  you ;  for  my  brave  fa- 
ther feared  the  surprise  might  hurt  you." 

"Oh,  heaven!" 

"And  now,"  cried  the  blacksmith,  in  an 
accent  of  indescribable  joy — "he  is  there, 
waiting!  Oh,  mother!  for  the  last  ten 
minutes  I  have  scarcely  been  able  to  con- 


THE    WANDERING  JEW.  477 

tain  myself — my  heart  is  bursting  with 
joy."  And  running  to  the  door,  he  threw 
it  open. 

Dagobert,  holding  Rose  and  Blanche  by 
the  hand,  stood  on  the  threshold.  Instead 
of  rushing  to  her  husband's  arms,  Frances 
fell  on  her  knees  in  prayer.  She  thanked 
Heaven  with  profound  gratitude  for  hear- 
ing her  prayers,  and  thus  accepting  her 
offerings.  During  a  second,  the  actors  of 
this  scene  stood  silent  and  motionless. 
Agricola,  by  a  sentiment  of  respect  and 
delicacy,  which  struggled  violently  with 
his  affection,  did  not  dare  to  fall  on  his 
father's  neck.  He  waited  with  constrained 
impatience  till  his  mother  had  finished  her 
prayer. 

The  soldier  experienced  the  same  feeling 
as  the  blacksmith;  they  understood  each 
other.  The  first  glauce  exchanged  by 
father  and  son  expressed  their  affection 
— their  veneration  for  that  excellent  wo- 
man, who,  in  the  fullness  of  her  religious 
fervor,  forgot,  perhaps,  »  too  much  the 
creature  for  the  Creator. 

Rose  and  Blanche,  confused  and  affected, 
looked  with  interest  on  the  kneeling  wo- 
man; while  Mother  Bunch,  shedding  in 
silence  tears  of  joy  at  the  thought  of  Agri- 
cola's  happiness,  withdrew  into  the  most 


478  THE   WANDERING   JEW. 

obscure  corner  of  the  room,  feeling  that 
she  was  a  stranger,  and  necessarily  out  of 
place  in  that  family  meeting.  Frances 
rose,  and  took  a  step  toward  her  husband, 
who  received  her  in  his  arms.  There  was 
a  moment  of  solemn  silence.  Dagobert 
and  Frances  said  not  a  word.  Nothing 
could  be  heard  but  a  few  sighs,  mingled 
with  tears  of  joy.  And,  when  *he  aged 
couple  looked  up,  their  expression  was 
calm,  radiant,  serene;  for  the  full  and 
complete  enjoyment  of  simple  and  pure 
sentiments  never  leaves  behind  a  feverish 
and  violent  agitation. 

"My  children,"  said  the  soldier,  in  tones 
of  emotion,  presenting  the  orphans  to 
Frances,  who,  after  her  first  agitation, 
had  surveyed  them  with  astonishment, 
"this  is  my  good  and  worthy  wife;  she 
will  be  to  the  daughters  of  General  Simon 
what  I  have  been  to  them." 

"Then,  madame,  you  will  treat  us  as 
your  children,"  said  Rose,  approaching 
Frances  with  her  sister. 

"The  daughters  of  General  Simon!" 
cried  Dagobert's  wife,  more  and  more 
astonished. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Frances ;  I  have  brought 
them  from  afar — not  without  some  diffi- 
culty; but  I  will  tell  you  that  by-and-by.'f 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  479 

"Poor  little  things!  One  would  take 
them  for  two  angels,  exactly  alike!"  said 
Frances,  contemplating  the  orphans  with 
as  much  interest  as  admiration. 

"Now  for  us,"  cried  Dagobert,  turning 
to  his  son. 

"At  last,"  rejoined  the  latter. 

We  must  renounce  all  attempts  to  de- 
scribe the  wild  joy  of  Dagobert  and  his 
sou,  and  the  crushing  grip  of  their  hands, 
which  Dagobert  interrupted  only  to  look 
in  Agricola's  face;  while  he  rested  his 
hands  on  the  young  blacksmith's  broad 
shoulders,  that  he  might  see  to  more  ad- 
vantage his  frank  masculine  countenance 
and  robust  frame.  Then  he  shook  his 
hand  again,  exclaiming,  "He's  a  fine  fel- 
low— well  built — what  a  good-hearted  look 
he  has!" 

From  a  corner  of  the  room  Mother 
Bunch  enjoyed  Agricola's  happiness;  but 
she  feared  that  her  presence,  till  then  un  - 
heeded,  would  be  an  intrusion.  She  wished 
to  withdraw  unnoticed,  but  could  not  do 
so.  Dagobert  and  his  son  were  between 
her  and  the  door;  and  she  stood  unable  to 
take  her  eyes  from  the  charming  faces  of 
Rose  and  Blanche.  She  had  never  seen 
anything  so  winsome;  and  the  extraordi- 
nary resemblance  of  the  sisters  increased 


480  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

her  surprise.  Then,  their  humble  mourn- 
ing revealing  that  they  were  poor,  Mother 
Bunch  involuntarily  felt  more  sympathy 
toward  them. 

"Dear  children!  They  are  cold;  their 
little  hands  are  frozen,  and,  unfortunately, 
the  fire  is  out,"  said  Frances.  She  tried 
to  warm  the  orphan's  hands  in  hers,  while 
Dagobert  and  his  son  gave  themselves  up 
to  the  feelings  of  affection,  so  long  re- 
strained. 

As  soon  as  Frances  said  that  the  fire 
was  out,  Mother  Bunch  hastened  to  make 
herself  useful,  as  an  excuse  for  her  pres- 
ence; and,  going  to  the  cupboard,  where 
the  charcoal  and  wood  were  kept,  she  took 
some  small  pieces,  and,  kneeling  before 
the  stove,  succeeded,  by  the  aid  of  a  few 
embers  that  remained,  in  relighting  the 
fire,  which  soon  began  to  draw  and  blaze. 
Filling  a  coffee-pot  with  water,  she  placed 
it  on  the  stove,  presuming  that  the  orphans 
required  some  warm  drink.  The  seam- 
stress did  all  this  with  so  much  dexterity 
and  so  little  noise — she  was  naturally  so 
forgotten  amid  the  emotions  of  the  scene 
— that  Frances,  entirely  occupied  with 
Rose  and  Blanche,  only  perceived  the  fire 
when  she  felt  its  warmth  diffusing  round, 
and  heard  the  boiling  water  singing  in  the 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  481 

coffee-po  .  This  phenomenon  —  fire  re- 
kindling of  itself— did  not  astonish  Dago- 
bort's  wife  then,  so  wholly  was  she  taken 
up  in  devising  how  she  could  lodge  the 
maidens;  for  Dagobert,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  not  given  her  notice  of  their  arrival. 
Suddenly  a  loud  bark  was  heard  three 
or  four  times  at  the  door. 

"Hallo!  there's  Spoilsport,"  said  Dago- 
bert, letting  in  his  dog;  "he  wants  to 
come  in  to  brush  acquaintance  with  the 
family  too." 

The  dog  came  in  with  a  bound,  and  in 
a  second  was  quite  at  home.  After  hav- 
ing rubbed  Dagobert's  hand  with  his  muz- 
zle, he  went  in  turns  to  greet  Rose  and 
Blanche,  and  also  Frances  and  Agricola; 
but,  seeing  that  they  took  but  little  notice 
of  him,  he  perceived  Mother  Bunch,  who 
stood  apart,  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the 
room,  and  carrying  out  the  popular  say- 
ing, "the  friends  of  our  friends  are  our 
friends,"  he  went  and  licked  the  hands  of 
the  young  workwoman,  who  was  just 
then  forgotten  by  all.  By  a  singular  im- 
pulse, this  action  affected  the  girl  to  tears ; 
sho  patted  her  long,  thin,  white  hand  sev- 
eral times  on  the  head  of  the  inteUigent 
dog.  Then,  finding  that  she  could  be  no 
longer  useful  (for  she  had  done  all  the  lit- 
VOL.  1-21 


482  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

tie  services  she  deemed  in  her  power),  she 
took  the  handsome  flower  Agricola  had 
given  her,  opened  the  door  gently,  and 
went  away  so  discreetly  that  no  one  no- 
ticed her  departure.  After  this  exchange 
of  mutual  affection,  Dagobert,  his  wife, 
and  son,  began  to  think  of  the  realities  of 
life. 

"Poor  Frances,"  said  the  soldier,  glanc- 
ing at  Rose  and  Blanche,  "you  did  not 
expect  such  a  pretty  surprise!" 

"I  am  only  sorry,  my  friend!"  replied 
Frances,  "that  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon  will  not  have  a  better  lodging  than 
this  poor  room;  for  with  Agricola's  gar- 
ret—" 

"It  composes  our  mansion,"  interrupted 
Dagobert;  "there  are  handsomer,  it  must 
be  confessed.  But  be  at  ease ;  these  young 
ladies  are  drilled  into  not  being  hard  to 
suit  on  that  score.  To-morrow,  I  and  my 
boy  will  go  arm  and  arm,  and  I'll  answer 
for  it  he  won't  walk  the  more  upright  and 
straight  of  the  two,  and  find  out  General 
Simon's  father,  at  M.  Hardy's  factory,  to 
talk  about  business." 

"To-morrow,  father,"  said  Agricola  to 
Dagobert,  "you  will  not -find  at  the  fac- 
tory either  M.  Hardy  or  Marshal  Simon's 
father." 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  483 

"What  is  that  you  say,  my  lad?"  cried 
Dagobert,  hastily,  "the  Marshal!" 

"To  be  sure ;  since  1830,  General  Simon's 
friends  have  secured  him  the  title  and  rank 
which  the  emperor  gave  him  at  the  battle 
of  Ligny." 

"Indeed!"  cried  Dagobert,  with  emo- 
tion, "but  that  ought  not  to  surprise  me; 
for,  after  all,  it  is  just;  and  when  the 
emperor  said  a  thing,  the  least  they  can 
do  is  to  let  it  abide.  But  it  goes  all  the 
same  to  my  heart;  it  makes  me  jump 
again." 

Addressing  the  sisters,  he  said:  "Do 
you  hear  that,  my  children?  You  arrive 
in  Paris  the  daughters  of  a  Duke  and  Mar- 
shal of  France.  One  would  hardly  think 
it,  indeed,  to  see  you  in  this  room,  my  poor 
little  duchesses !  But,  patience ;  all  will  go 
well.  Ah,  Father  Simon  must  have  been 
very  glad  to  hear  that  his  son  was  restored 
to  his  rank!  eh,  my  "lad?" 

"He  told  us  he  would  renounce  all  kinds 
of  ranks  and  titles  to  see  his  son  again ; 
for  it  was  during  the  general's  absence 
that  his  friends  obtained  this  act  of  justice. 
But  they  expect  Marshal  Simon  every  mo- 
ment, for  the  last  letters  from  India  an- 
nounced his  departure." 

At  these  words  Rose  and  Blanche  looked 


484  THE  WANDEB1NG  JEW. 

at  each  other;  and  their  eyes  filled  with 
tears. 

"Heaven  be  praised!  These  children 
rely  on  his  return ;  but  why  shall  we  not 
find  M.  Hardy  and  Father  Simon  at  the 
factory  to  morrow?" 

"Ten  days  ago  they  went  to  examine 
and  study  an  English  mill  established  in 
the  south;  but  we  expect  them  back  every 
day." 

"The  deuce!  that's  vexing ;  I  relied  on 
seeing  the  general's  father,  to  talk  over 
some  important  matters  with  him.  At 
any  rate,  they  know  where  to  write  to 
him.  So  to-morrow  you  will  let  him 
know,  my  lad,  that  his  granddaughters 
are  arrived.  In  the  meantime,  children," 
added  the  soldier,  to  Rose  and  Blanche, 
"my  good  wife  will  give  you  her  bed,  and 
you  must  put  up  with  the  chances  of  war. 
Poor  things!  they  will  not  be  worse  off 
here  than  they  were  on  the  journey." 

"You  know  we  shall  always  be  well  off 
with  you  and  madame,"  said  Rose. 

"Besides,  we  only  think  of  the  pleasure 
of  being  at  length  in  Paris,  since  here  we 
are  to  find  our  father/'  added  Blanche. 

"That  hope  gives  you  patience,  I  know," 
said  Dagobert,  "but  no  matter!  After  all 
you  have  heard  about  it,  you  ought  to  be 


THE  WANDBKING  JEW.  485 

finely  surprised,  my  children.  As  yet, 
you  have  not  found  it  the  golden  city  of 
your  dreams,  by  any  means.  But  pa- 
tience, patience;  you'll  find  Paris  not  so 
bad  as  it  looks." 

"Besides,"  said  Agricola,  "I  am  sure 
the  arrival  of  Marshal  Simon  in  Paris  will 
change  it  for  you  into  a  golden  city." 

"You  are  right,  Agricola,"  said  Rose, 
with  a  smile,  "you  have,  indeed,  guessed 
us." 

"What!  do  you  know  my  name?" 

"Certainly,  Agricola,  we  often  talked 
about  you  with  Dagobert,  and  latterly, 
too,  with  Gabriel,"  added  Blanche. 

"Gabriel!"     cried    Agricola    and    his 
mother,   at  the  same  time. 

"Yes,"  replied  Dagobert,  making  a  sign 
of  intelligence  to  the  orphans,  "we  have 
lots  to  tell  you  for  a  fortnight  to  come ; 
and,  among  other  things,  how  we  chanced 
to  meet  with  Gabriel.  All  I  can  now  say 
is  that,  in  his  way,  he  is  quite  as  good  as 
my  boy  (I  shall  never  be  tired  of  saying, 
'my  boy') ;  and  they  ought  to  love  each 
other  like  brothers.  Oh,  my  brave,  brave 
wife!"  said  Dagobert,  with  emotion,  "you 
did  a  good  thing,  poor  as  you  were,  taking 
the  unfortunate  child — and  bringing  him 
up  with  .your  own." 


486  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"Don't  talk  so  much  about  it,  my  dear; 
it  was  such  a  simple  thing." 

"You  are  right;  but  I'll  make  you 
amends  for  it  by-and-by.  'Tis  down  to 
your  account;  in  the  meantime,  you  will 
be  sure  to  see  him  to-  morrow  morning. 

"My  dear  brother  arrived  too!"  cried 
the  blacksmith;  "who'll  say,  after  this, 
that  there  are  not  days  set  apart  for  hap- 
piness? How  came  you  to  meet  him, 
father?" 

"I'll  tell  you  all,  by-and-by,  about  when 
and  how  we  met  Gabriel ;  for  if  you  ex- 
pect to  sleep,  you  are  mistaken.  You'll 
give  me  half  your  room,  and  a  fine  chat 
we'll  have.  Spoilsport  will  stay  outside 
of  this  door ;  he  is  accustomed  to  sleep  at 
the  children's  door." 

"Dear  me,  love,  I  think  of  nothing. 
But,  at  such  a  moment,  if  you  and  the 
young  ladies  wish  to  sup,  Agricola  will 
fetch  something  from  the  cookshop." 

"What  do  you  say,  children?" 

"No,  thank  you,  Dagobert,  we  are  not 
hungry;  we  are  too  happy." 

"You  will  take  a  little  wine  and  water, 
sweetened,  nice  and  hot,  to  warm  you  a 
little,  my  dear  young  ladies,"  said  Fran- 
ces; "unfortunately,  I  have  nothing  else 
to  offer  you." 


THE   WANDERING  JEW.  487 

"You  are  right,  Frances;  the  dear  chil- 
dren are  tired,  and  want  to  go  to  bed; 
while  they  do  so,  I'll  go  to  my  boy's  room, 
and,  before  Rose  and  Blanche  are  awake, 
I  will  come  down  and  converse  with  you, 
just  to  give  Agricola  a  respite." 

A  knock  was  now  heard  at  the  door. 

"It  is  good  Mother  Bunch  come  to  see 
if  we  want  her,"  $aid  Agricola. 

''But  I  think  she  was  here  when  my 
husband  came  in,"  added  Frances. 

"Right,  mother;  and  the  good  girl  left 
lest  she  should  be  an  intruder:  she  is  so 
thoughtful.  But  no— no— it  is  not  she 
who  knocks  so  loud." 

"Go  and  see  who  it  is,  then,  Agri- 
cola." 

Before  the  blacksmith  could  reach  the 
door,  a  man,  decently  dressed,  with  a  re- 
spectable air,  entered  the  room,  and 
glanced  rapidly  round,  looking  for  a  mo- 
ment at  Rose  and  Blanche. 

"Allow  me  to  observe,  sir,"  said  Agri- 
cola,  "that  after  knocking  you  might  have 
waited  till  the  door  was  opened  before  you 
entered.  Pray,  what  is  your  business?" 

"Pray,  excuse  me,  sir,"  said  the  man, 
very  politely,  and  speaking  slowly,  perhaps 
to  prolong  his  stay  in  the  room:  "I  beg 
a  thousand  pardons — I  regret  my  intru- 
sion— I  am  ashamed — " 


488  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"Well,  you  ought  to  be,  sir,"  said 
Agricola,  with  impatience,  "what  do  you 
want?" 

"Pray,  sir,  does  not  Miss  Soliveau,  a 
deformed  needlewoman,  live  here?" 

"No,  sir;  upstairs,"  said  Agricola. 

"Really,  sir,"  cried  the  polite  man,  with 
low  bows,  "I  am  quite  abroad  at  my  blun- 
der; I  thought  this  was  the  room  of  that 
young  person.  I  brought  her  proposals 
for  work  from  a  very  respectable  party." 

"It  is  very  late,  sir,"  said  Agricola, 
with  surprise.  "But  that  young  person  is 
as  one  of  our  family.  Call  to-morrow; 
you  cannot  see  her  to-night;  she's  gone  to 
bed." 

"Then,  sir,  I  again  beg  you  to  ex- 
cuse— " 

"Enough,  sir,"  said  Agricola,  taking  a 
step  toward  the  door. 

"I  hope  madame  and  the  young  ladies, 
as  well  as  this  gent,  will  be  assured 
that—" 

"If  you  go  on  much  longer  making  ex- 
cuses, sir,  you  will  have  to  excuse  the 
length  of  your  excuses;  and  it  is  time  this 
came  to  an  end!" 

Rose  and  Blanche  smiled  at  these  words 
of  Agricola;  while  Dagobert  rubbed  his 
mustache  with  pride. 


THE   WAJSDEK1NG  JEW.  489 

"What  wit  the  boy  has!"  said  he  aside 
to  his  wife.  "But  that  does  not  astonish 
you — you  are  used  to  it." 

During  this  speech,  the  ceremonious 
person  withdrew,  having  again  directed  a 
long,  inquiring  glance  to  the  sisters,  and 
to  Agricola,  -and  Dagobert 

In  a  few  minutes  after,  Frances  having 
spread  a  mattress  on  the  ground  for  her- 
self, and  put  the  whitest  sheets  on  her  bed 
for  the  orphans,  assisted  them  to  undress 
with  maternal  solicitude,  Dagobert  and 
Agricola  having  previously  withdrawn  to 
their  garret.  Just  as  the  blacksmith,  who 
preceded  his  father  with  a  light,  passed 
before  the  door  of  Mother  Bunch's  room, 
the  latter,  half  concealed  in  the  shade,  said 
to  him  rapidly,  in  a  low  tone: 

"Agricola,  great  danger  threatens  you: 
I  must  speak  to  you." 

These  words  were  uttered  in  so  hasty 
and  low  a  voice  that  Dagobert  did  not  hear 
them;  but  as  Agricola  stopped  suddenly, 
with  a  start,  the  old  soldier  said  to  him : 

"Well,  boy,  what  is  it?" 

"Nothing,  father,"  said  the  blacksmith, 
turning  round;  "I  feared  I  did  not  light 
you  well." 

"Oh,  stand  at  ease  about  that;  I  have 
the  legs  and  eyes  of  fifteen  to-night;"  and 


490  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  soldier,  not  noticing  his  son's  surprise, 
went  into  the  little  room  where  they  were 
both  to  pass  the  night. 

On  leaving  the  house,  after  his  inquiries 
about  Mother  Bunch,  the  over-polite  Paul 
Pry  slunk  along  to  the  end  of  Brise-Miche 
Street.  He  advanced  toward  a  hackney- 
coach  drawn  up  on  the  Cloitre  Saint  Mery 
Square. 

In  this  carriage  lounged  Rodin,  wrapped 
in  a  cloak. 

"Well?"  said  he,  in  an  inquiring  tone. 

"The  two  girls  and  the  man  with  the 
gray  mustache  went  directly  to  Frances 
Baudoin's;  by  listening  at  the  door,  I 
learned  that  the  sisters  will  sleep  with  her,, 
in  that  room,  to-night;  the  old  man  with 
the  gray  mustache  will  share  the  young 
blacksmith's  room." 

"Very  well,"  said  Rodin. 

"I  did  not  dare  insist  on  seeing  the  de- 
formed workwoman  this  evening  on  the 
subject  of  the  Bacchanal  Queen;  I  intend 
returning  to-morrow,  to  learn  the  effect  of 
the  letter  she  must  have  received  this 
evening  by  the  post  about  the  young 
blacksmith." 

"Do  not  fail!  And  now  you  will  call, 
for  me,  on  Frances  Baudoin's  confessor, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW.  491 

late  as  it  is ;  you  will  tell  him  that  I  am 
waiting  for  him  at  Rue  du  Milieu  des 
Ursins — he  must  not  lose  a  moment.  Do 
you  come  with  him.  Should  I  not  be  re- 
turned, he  will  wait  for  me.  You  will  tell 
him  it  is  on  a  matter  of  great  moment." 

"All  shall  be  faithfully  executed,"  said 
the  ceremonious  man,  cringing  to  Rodin 
as  the  coach  drove  quickly  away. 


END  OF  VOLUME   ONES. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  009  391     2 


